LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 

AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

STEWART  S.  HOWE 

JOURNALISM  CLASS  OF  1928 

STEWART  S.  HOWE  FOUNDATION 

B 
L654^1 


iJO-Pl^,^       <1^2---^^^^^t^..^ 


FOUNDER  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CENSER 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


AJsD 


PERSONAL  RECOllECTIONS 


OF 


JOHN   LEMLEY, 


EDITOR  OF  THB 


GOLDEN  CENSER, 


WITH 


SEVEN     YEARS'     EXPERIENCE 


AS 


EDITOR  AND  PUBLIC  SPEAKER. 


ROCKFORD,  ILLmOIS. 
1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

JOHN   LEMLEY, 
In  the  Office  of  ttie  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Marder,  Luse  &  Co., 

Electntypers  &  Sterpotypers, 

139  &  141  Monroe  Street, 

Chicago. 


ts-   w 


N^^ 


To  My  Friends,  made  so  through  contact  as  editor  and 
reader,  whose  sympathy,  confidence,  and  approval  of  the 
bold  and  fearless  editorial  labors,  have  encouraged,  inspired, 
and  cheered  me  through  the  vicissitudes  and  fortunes  of 
an  arduous  task  and  strange  experiences  of  seven  eventful 
years;  and  to  Mrs.  L.  H.  Lansing,  Mrs.  Joseph  Hayes,  Rev. 
Isaiah  B.  Coleman,  and  to  the  young  people  who  may 
appreciate  a  struggling  life,  I  dedicate  this  Autobiography 
and  Personal  Hecollections  with  gratitude  and  aflTection. 


^ 


PREFACE 


While  the  sacred  Book  everywhere  presents  life  as  short, 
as  the  flower  of  the  field,  it  also  informs  us  that  it  is  full 
of  sorrow,  and,  if  by  reason  of  strength,  it  should  be  pro- 
longed to  "  threescore  years  and  ten,  yet  is  their  strength 
labor  and  sorrow."  It  is  also  a  fact  that  every  human  life  is 
an  event  in  itself.  As  no  two  leaves  in  the  vast  forest  of 
leaves  are  alike,  as  no  two  blades  of  grass  in  the  fields  are 
an  exact  counterpart  of  each  other,  as  no  two  faces  pre- 
cisely resemble  each  other,  so  every  life  difi'ers  from  all 
other  lives.  It  is  in  the  recognition  of  these  facts  that 
the  study  of  autobiographies  becomes  interesting  to  us. 
While  every  man  builds  his  own  character,  yet,  to  some 
extent  at  least,  we  gather  lessons  and  experiences  from  the 
lives  of  those  who  have  gone  before,  and  from  each  other. 
In  the  grand  temple  of  existence,  every  human  creature 
furnishes  a  lively  stone. 

That  there  should  also  be  great  diversities  in  the  conditions 
of  our  lives,  cannot  be  wondered  at  when  we  for  a  moment 
reflect  and  observe  the  almost  endless  capacities  of  indi- 
viduals. Here  is  a  Ts'ewton,  there  an  idiot;  here  a  Dives, 
there  a  Lazarus;  here  a  Bismarck,  with  his  "Blood  and 
Iron  Policy,"  there  a  humble,  inoftensive  peasant.  Some 
men  have  wealth,  afl3uence,  position,  honor,  and  distinction 
thrust  upon  them,  while  others  have  a  life-long  struggle 
with  poverty,  sickness,  misfortune  and  calamities.  Some 
men  laui^h  at  impossibilities,  and  with  energies  that  make 
successes  out  of  other  men's  failures,  push  over  every 
obstacle.  While  we  admire  moral  courage  in  our  fellows, 
we  should  not  forget  to  pity  those  who  have  the  up-hill 
end  of  human  life. 


6  PREFACE. 

But  to  our  purpose.  The  life  about  to  be  sketched  has 
been  a  struggling  one.  The  boyhood  of  the  subject  has 
been  spent  in  the  school  of  adversity.  Surrounded  by  all 
the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  his  childhood  home  upon  the 
Rhine,  he  becomes,  by  a  sudden  stroke  of  adversity,  the 
poor  German  boy  in  a  strange  land,  surrounded  by  new 
circumstances  and  relations,  and  a  new  people,  and  is 
forced  to  go  from  door  to  door  as  a  beggar-boy,  driven 
thither  by  fate  and  intemperance.  Then  the  bitter  struggle 
through  adverse  fortunes  and  sickness  for  existence'  sake — 
then  the  partially  successful  efforts  in  obtaining  an  edu- 
cation— and  the  final  issue  in  the  establishment  of  the 
Golden  Censer. 

The  whole  narrative  enforces  the  thought  that  the  young 
can  make  more  of  life  than  they  in  their  impatience  usually 
suppose,  and  that  even  afflictions  and  adversities  may 
be  turned  to  the  Father's  glory.  It  is  very  true  that  in 
the  dark  days,  when  there  was  no  one  to  help — before  he 
learned  to  trust  in  God  —  he  now  and  then  sat  down  in 
the  way  of  life  and  wept  as  if  his  heart  would  break  — 
yet  he  never  gave  up  the  struggle.    Hope  always  triumphed. 

From  the  present  standpoint,  as  he  looks  over  the  his- 
tory of  the  past,  it  seems  almost  like  a  dream.  Fifteen 
years  ago,  he  never  expected  to  be  able  to  even  read  the 
Bible,  and  declined  to  receive  a  copy  of  the  same  from  the 
hand  of  a  lady  because  of  the  then  supposed  impossibility. 
That  he  has  since  been  able  to  read  it,  and  appreciate  its 
value,  must  be  evident  to  every  one  who  has  marked  the 
scholarly  productions  and  editorials  in  the  Golden  Censer. 

Finally,  this  preface  would  not  be  complete  did  we  not 
state  that  the  change  in  Mr.  Lemley's  surroundings  does 
not  make  him  proud  or  high-minded.  He  is  the  same 
humble-minded,  plainly-clad,  unassuming  person  he  ever 
has  been.  He  has  neither  taste  for,  nor  is  his  sympathy 
with,  the  fashions  and  frivolities  of  the  age. 


CONTENTS. 


Introductory. 
Reasons  for  publishing — Misapprehensions  corrected — 
Living  witnesses  to  the  leading  events  adduced — The  merits 
of  the  book.  1 1 

Chapter  I. 
Parentage — The  old  homestead — Childhood.  15 

Chapter  II. 

The  preparation — The  sale — The  departure — On  the 
Rhine — Antwerp — On  the  ocean.  22 

Chapter  III. 

Landing — A  sudden  reverse — Starvation — Tlie  weeping 
mother — Befriended.  29 

Chapter  IY. 
Seeking  a  home — Reduced  to  beggary — The  effects  of  an 
unaccustomed   climate — Embarrassment  for  the   want   of 
language — Being  fired  upon.  35 

Chapter  Y. 

Removal — Father  in  jail — Distress  at  home — Rigors  of 
winter.  30 

Chapter  YI. 

Removal — The  old  steam  sawmill — More  sorrows — 
Forced  to  beo: — Frozen  feet — Climbina:  the  mountains — A 
whipping — Run  away — Return — Given  away.  42 


8  contents. 

Chapter  YII 

The  old  folks — An  eventful  Sabbath — Autumn  dajB — 
Going  west — A  terrible  winter — Fleeing  for  life.  56 

Chapter  YIIL 

Bitten  bv  a  rattle-snake — At  the  gate  of  death — Driven 
into  the  harvest-field — Fainting — Turned  out  upon  the 
world — A  drover — Taken  with  fever  and  ague — Left  in  a 
strange  city  alone.  71 

Chapter  IX. 

Longing  for  a  home — A  night  in  the  wild  woods — A 
dream — A  long  journey — Incidents  by  the  way — Arriving 
at  West  Stephenson,  N.  Y.  79 

Chaj»ter  X. 

A  surprise — At  home — Reduced  by  the  fever  and  ague — 
Fleeing  for  life — Wandering — Sitting  on  a  stone  by  the 
roadside  weeping — Relief — A  good  home.  91 

Chapter  XL 

At  school  for  the  first  time — Terrors  of  discovery — Flee- 
ing again — On  the  canal — Starving  in  Buffalo — On  the 
lake — A  weary  journey — Another  home — Burning  the 
Bible.  *  98 

Chapter  XIL 

Through  floods — Facing  a  storm — A  good  lady — Another 
home — Better  days — News  of  the  death  of  ray  mother  and 
two  brothers.  106 

Chaffer  XIII. 

In  Rockford  the   first   time — A  mean   man — Swindled 

out  of  my  wages — Discouraged — Seeking  another  home — 

Better  results — A  good  old  man — Living  in  a  Universalist 

family — On  the  farm — A  new  experience — Bad  luck — On 


CONTENTS.  9 

the  farm  again — Another  misfortune — Weeping  for  very 
Bjmpathj,  and  there  was  none  to  pity.  11() 

Chapter  XIY. 

School  days — Off  for  Oberlin,  O. — A  sad  disappointment 
— In  Cleveland — On  a  farm  again — Injured  feeling  vindi- 
cated— On  the  way  to  Illinois — Change  of  occupation.   125 

Chapter  XY. 
A  -orinter's  devil — Studying — A  fire — Another  fire — A 
man  hung — A  dark  day — On  the  way  to  Kockford — The 
first  night  in  my  future  home  passed  in  a  freight-car — A 
new  place — Incidents — War  times — In  camp  — Soldier  life 
— Dark  days — A  misfortune.  141 

Chapter  XYI. 

Change  of  purpose — At  school — In  Evanston  on  the  way 
to  Middletown — I^ew  England  life — Curious  people — The 
Newtons — At  school  again — Distress — Unexpected  relief 
—Faith  in  God.  160 

Chapter  XYII. 
College  davs — A  stransre  letter — Wonderful  deliverance 
— A  bright  future — In  'New  Haven — On  the  Connecticut 
— In  New  York — Startling  intelligence — Finding  my  only 
sister — A  resolve  at  a  great  sacrifice — In  Racine,  Wis. — 
Out  of  employment — On  the  road — Yain  efforts — Discour- 
aged. 187 

Chapter  XYIII. 
The  conception  of  the  Golden  Censer — Ups  and  downs 
in  starting  the  paper — Among  the  people — Strange  inci- 
dents. 236 

Chapter  XIX. 
Discouragements — Oppositions — Patience    under    per- 


10  CONTENTS. 

plexities — Success — Pulpit  efforts — Disappointed  expecta- 
tions— A  new  press — The  paper  issued  weekly.  261 

Chapter  XX. 
The  building  gradually  advancing   to   its   completion — 
The  astonishment  of  those  who  despised  the  Censer — Un- 
paralleled success — The  wonderful  circulation  of  the  paper 
— Its  new  dress  and  enlargement — Conclusion.  363 


INTRODUCTORY. 


It  is  only  by  the  urgent  and  oft-repeated  requests,  and 
earnest  solicitations  of  many  of  the  Golden  Censer  patrons 
and  personal  friends  that  I  have  at  all  been  prevailed  upon 
and  persuaded  to  give  to  them  and  the  public  the  imper- 
fect narrative  contained  in  the  following  pages.  Concious 
of  human  weakness,  and  of  my  own  imperfections,  I  shrink 
from  the  task  imposed  upon  me.  It  is  with  no  small  de- 
gree ot  timidity  that  I  unfold  the  history  of  my  short,  yet 
eventful  life.  All  who  know  me  best  have  often  observed 
my  retiring  disposition  and  simplicity  of  manners — almost 
bordering  an  awkwardness — always  seeking  the  compan- 
ionship of  the  common  people,  and  content  with  the  hum- 
bler walks  of  life — earnest,  uncompromising,  fearless,  and 
devoted  to  the  peculiar  work  to  which  God  has  called  me, 
and  to  which  I  have  consecrated  what  little  ability  I  may 
possess,  with  an  earnest  desire  to  glorify  my  Heavenly 
Father  upon  the  earth,  and  to  faithfully  do  the  work  he  has 
given  me  to  do. 

A  bird's-eye  sketch  of  my  life  was  first  prepared  for  the 
initial  number  of  the  Golden  Censer.  It  was  necessarily 
brief  and  imperfect.  Presenting  only  the  darker  side,  the 
truthfulness  of  the  sketch  was  very  seriously  questioned, 
and  many  persons  called  upon  me  to  satisfy  themselves  of 
my  honesty  and  sincerity.  Two  years  later  a  pamphlet  of 
sixty-four  pages  was  prepared.  In  this  I  obviated  some 
of  the  apparent  incredibilities  by  giving  more  at  length 
the  circumstances  which  led   to   mv   misfortunes.      Still, 


12  INTRODUCTOKY. 

many  people  labored  under  the  impression  that  the  picture 
was  overdrawn.  But  it  seemed  much  more  reasonable 
than  the  first  effort,  and  was  so  favorably  received  that 
I  was  importuned  to  give  a  still  fuller  account  in  the 
Golden  Censer.  I  carefully  revised  and  gave  a  much 
more  extended  history.  This  met  with  such  general  ap- 
proval, and  seemed  to  speak  to  the  hearts  of  so  many  peo- 
ple, that  long  before  it  was  concluded,  I  was  again  urged 
to  give  it  in  a  more  connected  and  permanent  shape. 
However,  even  now,  I  hear  of  expressions  such  as  these  I 
"  It  is  a  remarkable  history,  if  ttmey  To  remove  all 
doubts  from  the  minds  of  the  credulous,  I  cannot  hope  to 
do,  but  it  shall  be  my  purpose  to  so  enlarge  upon  all  these 
points  which  seemed  to  have  called  forth  such  expressions, 
as  to  make  this  narrative  reasonable  to  a  reasonable  Tnind. 
The  picture  is  a  dark  one  in  very  many  respects,  and  I 
shall  faithfully  give  it  just  as  it  is. 

It  has  ever  been  my  aim  and  steadfast  purpose  to  seek 
that  wisdom  which  cometh  down  from  heaven,  and  which 
raises  the  heart  above  the  adulations  of  men  or  the  ap- 
plause of  popular  opinion,  and  which  outweighs  them  all. 
It  is  one  thing  to  WTite  the  biography  of  some  great  hero, 
philosopher  or  divine,  and  another  to  narrate  the  events  of 
a  struggling  life,  hence  the  more  do  I  shrink  from  this 
task  when  I  reflect  that  the  narrative  which  I  am  about  to 
write  is  that  of  a  worse  than  orphan  boy — poor — ignorant 
— in  a  strange  country — discarded  and  buffeted.  It  is  also 
an  acknowledged  fact,  attested  by  all  who  have  experienced 
the  stern  reality,  that  the  majority  of  mankind  do  not  sym- 
pathize with  the  unfortunate,  the  fallen,  the  suffering. 
Those  who  have  all  heart  can  wish  are  little  prepared  to 
enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  life  struggles  of  a  poor,  home- 
less wanderer  in  a  cold,  selfish,  sinful  world. 

In  this,  as  indeed  in  all  my  efforts,  I  make  no  preten- 
tions to  literary  merits,  and  humbly   trust   this    candid 


INTRODUCnORY  13 

avowal  will,  in  a  measure  at  least,  disafm  criticism.  This 
indeed  is  only  a 

"  Short  and  simple  anonl  of  the  poor," 

and  if  the  perusal  of  this  narrative  should  cheer  some  faint- 
ing, aching,  sorrowing  heart  on  the  world's  thorny  high- 
way, and  lead  him  to  an  acknowledgment  of  the  God  who 
has  guided  my  footsteps,  I  sluill  feel  more  than  repaid  for 
my  efforts.  Truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  must  con- 
stitute the  merit  of  this  sketch,  if  indeed  it  possess  any 
merit  at  all;  and  many  who  may  read  these  lines  know 
that  real  life  often  furnishes  stranger  stories  than  romance 
ever  dreamed  of;  and  that  facts  are  frequently  more  start- 
ling than  fiction. 

I  further  state  as  I  advance  in  the  history  under  consid- 
eration, that  I  shall  speak  of  things  pleasant  and  painful. 
Also,  whatever  may  be  the  criticism  of  the  reader  upon 
the  actions  of  either  my  father  or  of  strangers,  it  must  be 
understood  that  at  this  remote  period  and  in  changed  cir- 
cumstances, I  could  have  no  motive  to  speak  ill  of  any  one. 
I  shall  simply  enter  into  the  feelings  in  which  I  suffered, 
and  shall  avoid  comments — leaving  the  reader  to  draw  h-s 
own  conclusions.  In  the  language  of  a  greater  than  your 
editor,  I  write  "  with  charity  for  all  and  malice  toward 
none." 

I  must  remove  another  objection,  and  that  is,  too  many 
people  look  upon  published  lives  of  men  as  if  they  should 
be  blameless,  and  j^erfect.  This,  indeed  is  often  aimed  at 
by  the  men  who  write  them,  but,  as  I  write  this  in  person, 
very  modesty  and  a  luve  of  truth  and  candor  com])el  me 
to  adhere  strictly  to  the  events  under  consideration.  I 
make  no  claim  to  perfection  or  infallibilty.  There  is  but 
one  man  living  who  does,  and  he  makes  so  many  miserable 
blunders,  that  I  would  be  ashamed  to  set  up  a  like  claim. 
Let  the  Pope  enjoy  his   infallibility  all  by  himself.     If  I 


14  INTRODUCTORY. 

were  to  live  my  life* over  again  I  should  act  very  differently 
from  what  I  have  done,  but,  as  I  cannot  do  this,  I  shall 
write  as  I  lived,  not  as  I  would  have  lived  with  the  matu- 
rer  experience  of  manhood.  I  hope  the  reader  will  bear 
this  in  mind,  as  it  is  important  to  a  proper  understanding 
of  the  sketch. 

There  is  one  perplexity  I  meet  in  the  very  outset  of  the 
narrative,  and  that  is,  the  year  in  which  I  was  born.  My 
early  disadvantages  closed  up  all  avenues  of  knowledge. 
But  I  have  made  faithful  inquiry,  and  probably  I  was 
born  in  1843.  There  cannot  be  more  than  one  year  either 
way,  and  hence,  for  the  sake  of  establishing  subsequent 
dates  in  the  sketch,  I  shall,  with  this  explanation,  assume 
1843  to  be  the  correct  year.  Finally,  it  is  my  earnest  de- 
sire that  this  history  may  not  simply  amuse  and  interest, 
but  help  and  stimulate  both  old  and  young,  the  prosperous 
and  the  unfortunate,  in  the  battle  of  life,  encourage  the  de- 
spondent, and  aid  the  struggling  in  their  efforts  to  rise 
above  adverse  circumstances.  If  I  were  asked  to  whom  I 
was  most  indebted  for  the  molding  influence  that  shaped 
my  manhood,  I  would  answer,  to  God,  and  a  sacred  mem- 
ory of  a  good  mother. 

I  most  earnestly  hope,  with  this  introduction,  if  there 
be  any  one  who  must  still  criticise  this  simple  narrative, 
they  will  exercise  charity,  constantly  keeping  before  their 
mind,  that  through  all  the  sufferings,  sorrows,  and  vicissi- 
tudes of  my  early  life,  I  had  neither  counsellor  nor  guide. 

Respectfully, 

The  Author. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Parentage — The  Old  Homestead — CniLDnooD. 

In  these  davs  of  transatlantic  visits,  a  traveler,  in  the 
outskirts  of  a  lovely  village,  in  the  province  of  Hesse-Darm- 
stadt, Germany,  might  have  noticed  a  stone  house  stand- 
ing back  from  the  street,  and  half-concealed  by  the  foliage 
of  fruit  trees,  shrubs  and  flowers.  This  is  the  homestead 
where  I  was  born.  So  far  as  memory  serves  me,  my  pa- 
rents were  in  very  comfortable  circumstances.  I  have 
heard  my  mother  say  that  they  owned  four  acres  of  land — 
and  land  in  Germany  is  valuable — and  the  house  in  which 
w^e  lived.  My  father  had  been  an  officer  in  the  German 
army,  and  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  was  a  merchant  in 
my  native  village.  Ease  and  comfort,  to  say  nothing  of 
luxury  and  plenty,  were  manifest  on  every  hand.  Of 
course  I  cannot  speak  of  society  or  the  position  my  father's 
family  occupied  in  the  community,  as  all  these  things  were 
beyond  my  years  and  understanding.  But  I  do  know  that 
we  ha<l  a  large  circle  of  relatives,  living,  not  only  in  the 
immediate  vicinitv,  but  at  a  distance.  And  when  these 
visited  our  house,  then  we  children  (there  were  three  of  us, 
viz.,  John,  Peter  and  Mary,  1  name  them  in  the  order  of 
their  ages)  had  a  right  merry  time.  And,  oh,  such  beau- 
tiful presents!  They  made  our  eyes  snap  and  sparkle,  and 
our  hearts  leap  with  joy.  No  childhood  could  have  been 
more  happy  than  was  mine.  I  had  a  kind,  indulgent  father 
and  a  tender,  loving  mother. 


16  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Our  home  was  very  beautifully  located  in  a  quiet,  seclud- 
ed spot.  !Near  by,  a  brooklet  of  crystal  water  wound  its 
way  through  meadow  and  grove,  now  basking  in  the  clear 
sunlight,  now  rippling  half  concealed  by  the  overspreading 
foliage,  now  laughing  as  gentle  zephyrs  swept  its  glassy 
surface.  In  the  plain  before  us  three  hamlets  nestled, 
pointing  their  minarets  heavenward.  K^ear  by  was  that 
ever-beautiful  river,  the  Rhine,  while  in  the  distance 
Mintz  lay  in  solemn  grandeur  with  its  domes  and  palaces 
shimmering  in  the  sunlight.  On  either  hand  the  undula- 
tion of  the  country,  with  its  green  fields  and  groves,  ita 
farm-houses  and  villas,  formed  a  picture  upon  which  the  eye 
ever  loves  to  gaze. 

The  seasons  were  ever  delighful,  the  atmosphere  being 
mild  the  year  round,  and  springtime  seemed  heaven  let 
down  to  earth.  To  breathe  its  balmy  air;  to  listen  to  the 
music  of  the  flowing  rills,  murmuring  brooks,  dashing 
cascades,  songs  of  birds,  play  of  zephyrs  through  the  trees, 
and  shrubs,  and  flowers;  to  behold  the  ever-changing  variety 
of  landscape,  hill  and  valley,  mound  and  dale,  lawn  and 
glen,  to  breathe  the  fragrance  of  flowers  of  every  hue  and 
color;  to  look  upon  the  morning  dews  glistening  like  pearls 
in  the  clear  sunlight,  and  to  gaze  upon  the  sunset's  tinsel- 
ing on  the  evening  sky,  colors  far  surpassing  the  skill  of 
artists, — formed  contrasts  rare  and  beautiful. 

Oh,  with  what  joy  I  used  to  gather  the  flowers  that 
bloomed  in  endless  variety  hard  by  where  the  crystal  spray 
of  that  inland  river  dashes  against  the  pebbly  and  ever- 
varied  shore,  and  with  childish  skill  weave  them  into  a 
wreath — a  happy  surprise  for  mother! 

The  clear  silvery  chimes  of  the  village  bells  sounding 
through  the  forest  and  along  the  hillsides  in  tones  so 
sweetly  musical,  announcing  in  accents  both  soft  and  mel- 
low to  the  weary  toilers  of  earth  that  another  Sabbath  of 
rest  and  meditation  and  spiritual  refreshment  had  dawned 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  17 

over  the  world;  the  clear  blue  sky  with  its  genial  sun  and 
bland  atmosphere  by  day,  and  bright  beaming  stars  by 
night;  the  rich  and  varied  foliage  of  forests;  the  anthem 
wkich  nature's  minstrels  poured  forth  from  every  branch 
and  bower;  the  music  of  the  rill?^  singing  so  cheerily  in 
their  meanderings  through  meadows,  glens  and  groves;  the 
vine-clad  hills,  laden  with  the  ])urpie  fruitage  of  the  year; 
the  innocent  glee  of  my  playmates;  the  golden  hours 
when  no  sorrow  enters  the  heart, — are  as  fresh  in  my  mem- 
ory as  but  of  yesterday. 

And  often,  in  after  years,  when  circumstances  were 
changed,  and  sorrow  and  anguish  had  wrung  the  hot,  scald- 
ing tears  from  my  eyes,  I  have  lived  over  and  over  again 
in  memory  those  bright,  happy,  sunny  hours  of  my  child- 
hood, and  in  them  [  have  found  great  consolation.  I  thank 
God  for  a  happy  childhood. 

My  parents  being  Catholics,  I  of  course  was  early  in- 
structed in  the  duties  and  usages  of  that  church.  The 
paraphernalia  displayed  on  festal-days,  and  the  processions 
in  which  the  whole  community  participated  when  they 
marched  from  the  church  to  the  shrine  of  some  dead  saint, 
were  quite  pleasing  to  my  curious  mind.  Indeed  it  was 
imposing  to  see  the  white  flags  and  banners  unfurled  and 
wavino:  in  the  morninor  breeze,  and  to  listen  to  thechantin«r 
of  some  sacred  hymn.  Upon  the  whole,  the  altar  glitter- 
ing with  imagery,  the  burning  candles,  the  odor  of  the 
frankincense  from  swinging  censers,  the  costly  robes  of  the 
priests,  were  quite  fascinating. 

Though  my  parents  were  both  Catholics,  and  all  my  early 
instruction  was  given  by  that  church,  yet,  since  I  could 
think  for  myself,  I  could  not  accept  of  the  unscriptura! 
and  half-heathenish  mummeries  of  that  great  but  apos- 
tate church.  However,  I  am  constrained  t<:)  believe  that 
many  people  dying  in  her  communion  will  be  saved.  My 
own  precious  mother  lived  and  died  in  the  faith  of  that 


18  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

church.  But  because  of  this,  it  is  no  thanks  to  the  priests 
or  Roman  prelates  who  bind  heavy  burdens  upon  the  peo- 
ple, and  do  not  so  much  as  touch  them  with  their  fingers. 
Ao^ain,  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  German 
Catholic  and  the  Irish.  The  American  sees  Catholicism 
through  the  Irish — the  most  devoted  and  most  bigoted  na- 
tion. In  saying  this,  I  would  not  speak  disrespectfully  of 
the  Irish  people.  'No.  So  far  as  they  are  under  the  yoke 
of  this  unmerciful  priesthood,  I  pity  them,  for  a  more  gen- 
erous and  whole-souled  people  do  not  exist  on  the  face  of 
the  globe.  Irish  genius  is  at  once  brilliant  and  sparkling. 
My  being  saved  from  the  molding  influences  of  this  church, 
I  can  account  for  in  no  other  way  than  that  God  held  the 
destiny  of  my  life  in  his  hand. 

But  to  return.  At  the  lawful  age  I  was  sent  to  school. 
Memory  does  not  serve  me  to  relate  at  what  age  I  was  sent, 
or  how  lono^  I  attended  school.  But  I  do  remeiTxber  the 
first  morning  at  school.  It  was  one  of  those  lovely  spring 
days  when  the  flowers  breathed  their  fragrance  into  the  air, 
and  the  birds  sang  so  sweetly,  and  all  nature  laughed  for 
very  gladness.  I  remember  the  first  book  given  me.  Its 
neat  appearance — not  its  contents — as  a  matter  of  course 
made  it  very  attractive  to  me.  Politeness  to  our  school- 
fellows, deference  to  our  teachers,  and  our  best  manners  to 
the  priests  were  among  the  first  things  learned.  We  were 
never  allowed  to  address  a  grown  person  without  first  re- 
moving our  hats  and  making  a  bow.  I  can  truly  say  that 
we  were  early  trained  at  the  school  to  respect  grown  peo- 
ple. The  story  of  the  prophet  and  the  disobedient  chil- 
dren, and  of  the  bears  coming  out  of  the  woods  to  destroy 
them,  was  often  repeated  as  an  example  of  disobedience. 

It  would  be  no  particular  interest  to  the  reader  for  me  to 
relate  what  grand  good  times  we  had  during  the  holidays. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  Christmas  originated  with  the 
German  people,  and  they,  more  than  any  other  nation, 
celebrate  during  this  festal  week. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  10 

The  groves  and  forests  in  Germany  are  kept  very  choice. 
By  a  law  of  the  land  the  peasantry  are  permitted  to  go 
tlirongh  these  forests  and  pick  up  all  sticks  and  branches 
that  may  lay  on  the  ground.  They  can  also  remove  any 
dead  and  dry  limbs  from  the  trees.  To  accomplish  this, 
they  have  long  slender  poles  with  an  iron  hook  fastened 
on  one  end,  and  with  these  they  pull  down  the  dry  limbs. 
Thus  the  forests  are  kept  very  neat  and  clean  by  the  peas- 
antry. 

Another  curiosity  in  these  forests  is,  here  and  there, 
usually  in  large  trees  are  excavations  in  the  trunks  of  the 
trees  about  four  or  five  feet  from  the  ground,  and  in  these 
images  are  placed,  such  as  the  Virgin  Mary,  or  some  of  the 
saints,  and  protected  by  glass  being  placed  over  them. 
Whenever  any  one  happened  to  come  upon  one  of  these 
images,  he  had  to  fall  upon  liis  knees  and  pray  to  it.  I  re- 
member at  one  time  I  accompanied  my  grandmother  on  a 
visit  to  a  distant  village,  and  she  took  a  foot-path  through 
a  grove,  and  I  «ould  not  help  but  notice  how  many  times 
the  good  old  lady  stopped  to  render  up  devotions  before 
these  forest  shrines. 

The  highways  are  constructed  at  a  greater  cost  than  some 
of  the  railways  in  this  country.  The  roads  are  all  ma- 
cadamized, and  ruts  and  mud  are  unknown.  The  wagons 
also,  are  different  frum  those  of  this  countrv.  The  waefon 
tires  usually  are  from  four  to  five  inches  wide. 

Thouorji  the  houses  in  this  countrv  are  most  all  built  of 
stone,  yet  straw  is  used  for  rootinej.  Thus  a  traveler  may 
enter  a  German  village,  and  the  straw-thatched  roofs  will 
remind  him  of  the  Orient.  These  roofs  in  drv  weather  take 
fire  very  quickly,  yet  a  conflagration  is  a  thing  seldom  wit 
nessed,  so  careful  are  the  Germans  of  tire.  Stoves  are  un- 
known, ovens  being  used  altogether. 

As  before  observed,  we  had  a  goodly  number  of  relatives 
and  friends;  entertaining  many  guests,  and,  in  turn,  visiting 


20  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

them.  Tlieso  were  liappv  occasions  for  me,  for  then  I  could 
see  the  country,  pick  such  large  plums,  pears,  apples,  and 
receive  so  many  good  things. 

One  day  I  was  permitted  to  accompany  an  aunt  of  mine 
to  a  city  some  miles  distant.  This  was  the  first  time  1  was 
ever  in  a  large  city,  and  my  curiosity  was  raised  to  its 
highest  pitch  on  beholding  the  large,  massive  blocks,  the 
rumbling  of  carriages,  wagons  and  carts,  the  crowded  streets, 
shaded  walks,  beautiful  parks  with  their  rare  shrubs  and 
trees,  palace  residences  half  hidden  by  foliage,  fountains 
jetting  out  cool  and  sparkling  water;  in  short,  I  was  wild 
with  delight  and  excitement.  After  showing  me  the  city, 
my  aunt  started  to  go  up  some  stairs.  She  ascended  four 
or  five  flights,  and  I  followed  as  fast  as  my  feet  would  let 
me,  but  I  was  quite  tired,  and  failed  to  keep  up,  and  she, 
not  noticinir  but  what  T  was  close  behind  her,  turned  a  cor- 
ner,  and  I  lost  sight  of  her.  After  having  gained  the  last 
Eight  of  stairs,  I  wandered  over  the  large  building  trying 
to  find  where  she  had  gone  to.  Meeting  with  no  success, 
I  again  returned  to  the  street.  Then,  upon  seeing  strange 
faces  going  hither  and  thither,  it  occurred  to  me  for  the  first 
time  that  I  was  in  a  large  city,  far  away  from  home — and 
lost!  Overcome  by  this  thought,  I  sat  down  and  wept  as  if 
my  heart  would  break.  Oh,  I  did  feel  so  bad  I  At  length 
my  aunt  came  down  stairs  laughing  at  me  because  I  was 
"boo-hooinor."  A  lot  of  laro^e  red  cherries,  however,  healed 
my  wounded  feelings.  But  I  did  feel  ashamed  of  myself 
when  aunt,  upon  our  arrival  at  home,  related  how  I  had 
been  a  "cry-baby." 

Boys  will  be  boys,  and  are  always  in  the  way,  so  one  day, 
while  some  masons  were  at  work  on  our  house,  I  was 
climbing  up  on  a  ladder  after  a  workman  who  was  carry- 
ing bricks,  when  one  slipped  out  of  his  hand,  and,  coming 
down,  struck  me  and  brought  me  to  the  ground  bruised 
and  bleeding.     At  another  Lime  some  of  the  neighboring 


PKRSONAI,    RECOLLECTIONS.  21 

bojs  were  i^oing  to  have  a  ''huckleberry  pick,"  and  I  want- 
ed to  go  too,  but  tlicy  did  not  wish  me  to  go,  being  too 
young,  tliey  alleged,  and  likely  to  tire  out  before  their  re- 
turn. I  could  not  think  of  giving  up,  so  I  followed  after 
them.  They  repeatedly  ordered  me  to  return  home,  and 
seeing  I  was  bent  on  following,  rolled  a  stone  down  the 
hill  which  struck  me  and  cut  my  head  to  a  frightful  extent. 

Aside  from  these  incidents,  my  childhood  days  were  sunny, 
and  I  had  all  my  heart  could  desire.  My  parents  were 
very  kind  to  us  children.  Well  do  I  remember  how  my 
father  used  to  take  me  npon  his  knee  and  tell  me  stories  of 
America  until  I  was  carried  away  with  delight.  The  glow- 
ing descriptions  he  gave  of  this  country  so  impressed  my 
imagination  that  I  thought  the  United  States  to  be  the 
Eden  of  earth. 

My  lather  was  also  a  great  sportsman,  and  frequently  he 
permitted  me  to  accompany  him  to  the  groves.  Oh,  what 
happy  hours  those  were  to  me!  With  what  glee  I  climbed 
the  sun-clad  hills,  or  descended  into  the  flower-covered 
valleys,  or  chased  the  butterflies  through  the  shady  glens, 
or  listened  to  the  hum  of  the  bees  as  they  passed  from 
flower  to  flower,  or  the  heart-thrillin":  sonsrs  of  the  birds 
resounding  through  the  groves  I  O  happy  days  of  yore, 
come  back  to  this  aching  heart  of  mine  I  Let  me  be 
a  child  again,  if  but  for  to-night!  Ah,  who  does  not  love 
the  remembrance  of  such  happy  days  as  these?  Truly, 
their  memory  has  been  a  solace-  — a  healing  balm  to  my 
poor,  aching  head  and  desolate  heart  while  struggling  in 
this  sinful  world. 


22  ATJTOBIOGKAPHT. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

The  Preparation — The  Sale — The  Departure — On  the 
Rhine — Antwerp — On  the  Ocean. 

All  set  times  and  seasons  come  full  soon.  Yiewed  in 
the  future,  the  restless,  impatient  mind  longs  for  the 
speedy  arrival  of  the  hour  which  may  measure  some  great 
event  in  our  lives.  Thus  did  I  long  for  the  eventful  hour. 
My  parents  talked  much  about  our  departure  to  America, 
and  my  youthful  mind  was  filled  with  strange  conceptions 
of  the  western  world. 

Like  all  good  mothers,  mine  made  garment  after  gar- 
ment for  herself  and  children.  The  needle  was  kept 
nimbly  plying  from  morning  until  night.  Grandma,  aunts, 
servants,  and  all  who  could  sew,  bent  their  energies  to  the 
task,  until  trunk  after  trunk  was  filled. 

At  length  the  time  when  my  father  purposed  removing 
to  America  had  arrived,  and  the  old  homestead  was  sold 
for  whatever  it  brought.  Some  time,  however,  was  con- 
sumed in  the  usual  preparation  for  such  a  long  journey. 
The  eventful  day  of  our  departure  arrived  full  soon.  The 
morning  was  calm,  and  the  sun  never  lifted  his  golden 
brow  over  the  eastern  hills  more  lovely.  At  an  early  hour 
friends,  neighbors  —  in  fact,  the  whole  village — assembled 
in  front  of  our  house  to  witness  our  departure. 

There  was  a  solemn,  melancholy  sound  when  fether,  for 
the  last  time,  closed  the  door  of  the  dear  old  home.  Silent- 
ly my  mother  entered  the  carriage  with  a  heart  almost 
crushed,  for  around  that  home  were  linked  some  of  the 
dearest  associations  of  her  life.  Down  many  a  cheek 
rolled  tears  of  sympathy  for  her  efforts  to  give  up  all  and 


PERSONAL    KIXOLLECTIONS.  23 

seek  a  home  beyond  the  swelling  ocean,  and  in  a  forei«;n 
land.  Indeed  it  was  a  solemn  hour,  and  strong  arniB 
faltered  as  the  hand  of  friendship  was  extended  for  the  last 
time. 

The  carriage  moved  slowly  away,  while  weeping  friends 
and  an  aged  grandmother,  whose  heart  seemed  almost 
broken  beneath  her  load  of  grief,  tried  to  ])ersuade  father 
to  remain.  As  mother  looked  back  for  the  last  time  upon 
her  weeping  brothers  and  sisters  and  aged  mother,  she 
wept  like  a  child.     Oh,  it  was  hard  to  give  up  all! 

It  was  all  strange  to  me.  I  did  not  understand  then 
why  mother  thus  wept.  This,  doubtless,  was  the  setting 
of  her  sun  of  happiness.  Oh,  the  sorrows  which  some 
changes  bring!  ilow  infinitely  better,  in  many  instances, 
would  it  be  to  let  well-enough  alone.  But  poor  mother 
was  never  very  anxious  to  leave  her  home  in  the  father- 
land. 

Why  my  father  sold  this  home,  I  cannot  tell,  unless  he 
was  actuated  by  that  restless  spirit  found  in  every  breast 
which  seeks  to  better  its  condition.  Why  my  parents 
removed  from  the  shores  of  the  Rhine  to  try  their  fortunes 
in  a  new  and  strange  country,  is  equally  a  mystery,  for 
they  might  have  lived  happily  and  died  contented,  as  did 
our  ancestry  before  us,  in  the  old  homestead.  But  times 
change,  and  we  change  with  them. 

Of  course  I  was  top  young  to  take  in  the  magnitude  of 
the  change,  or  to  realize  the  consequences  which  followed. 
I  did  not  even  fully  understand  why  our  friends  wept  so 
bitterly  at  our  departure.  The  long  preparation,  the  great 
supply  of  new  garments,  the  purchiise  of  many  valuable 
articles,  the  frecjuent-  conversations  of  our  prospective 
home  over  the  ocean,  served  only  to  stimulate  my  fancy, 
and  to  make  me  restless  for  the  de|)arture.  Not  so  with 
my  poor  mother.  It  must  have  been  the  greatest  trial  of 
her  life.     Indeed  she  cried  so  bitterly  that  the  journey  was 


2i  ATJTOBIOGRAPHT. 

almost  given  up.  But  this  could  not  be  done.  The  home 
was  sold,  our  goods  shipped,  and  go  we  must.  However, 
as  we  passed  along,  mother  became  more  composed,  but  I 
think  she  never  saw  a  happy  day  afterward. 

After  a  few  hour's  ride,  we  arrived  at  Mintz,  where  we 
took  a  steamer  for  Cologne.  Scarcely  had  the  steamer  left 
the  city  where  printing  was  invented,  than  the  sceneries 
for  which  the  river  is  noted  presented  themselves.  Between 
Mintz  and  Colos^ne  are  s^reat  vinevards,  and  wine  is 
extensively  manufactured.  On  either  side  of  the  river 
the  country  is  broken,  and  along  the  hill-sides  the 
vines  hang  heavy  with  grapes,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see. 
I  was  carried  away  with  delight  and  admiration  as  I  beheld 
the  multitude  of  objects  that  passed  before  my  eyes.  A 
short  distance  below  Mintz,  we  passed  the  beautiful  village 
of  Bingen  —  celebrated  in  song  as  "  Bingen  on  theKhine." 
Ah,  well  miglit  one  be  a  soldier  in  Algiers,  if  the  prayer 
of  one  —  not  a  sister  —  followed  from  such  a  lovely  spot  as 
this.  Basking  in  the  sunlight,  half  concealed  by  the  sur- 
rounding vineyards,  its  minarets  reflecting  in  the  river 
below,  it  was  a  gem  rare  and  lovely.  O  land  of  the  beau- 
tiful I  How  can  I  paint  thy  enchanting  glories?  I  spent 
the  whole  day  gazing  upon  the  viue-clad  hills,  lowly 
cottages,  towering  castles,  elegant  palaces  and  curiously 
constructed  villas  peeping  through  leafy  groves.  Evening 
came,  but  I  was  still  permitted,  in  company  with  my 
parents,  to  remain  on  deck  and  drink  in  the  rich  scenery. 
The  bright  orb  of  day  sinking  behind  the  distant  hills, 
tinseled  upon  the  western  sky  colors  surpassing  by  far  all 
works  of  art,  the  dews  falling  so  gently,  the  herds  rumin- 
ating in  the  lawns,  the  peasantry  thronging  their  cottage 
doors,  the  children  playing  on  the  shore,  their  innocent 
glee  ringing  merrily  upon  the  calm,  twilight  air,  the  birds 
hushed  in  their  bowers,  the  hum  of  the  distant  village 
subdued,  rendered  the  hour  very  impressive.     The  silvery 


PERSONAX    RKrOTJ/rrTK^NS.  25 

rays  of  the  rising  moon  at  length  bhone  through  tlie  rich 
foliage  down  upon  tlie  river;  the  stars  one  by  one  came 
out;  not  a  zephyr  ruffled  the  bosom  of  the  stream,  wliich 
reflected  on  its  glassy  surface  a  thousand  glittering  stars; 
the  villas  and  castles,  with  their  white  colonnades,  seen 
through  the  somber  shade  of  the  dense  foliage,  arose  like 
colosseums;  the  lights  streaming  from  palace  windows 
fell  upon  the  surface  of  the  river  like  columns  of  gold; 
the  parks  and  flower-gardens  along  the  shore  breathed 
their  fragrance  on  the  evening  air;  the  everlasting  hills, 
sleeping  in  grim  repose,  awakened  a  sublimity  not  to  be 
equaled. 

We  arrived  at  Cologne  about  10  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
I  slept  soundly  that  night.  The  following  morning  father 
showed  us  the  city.  Cologne  is  a  city  of  palaces  and 
statuary;  so  it  seemed  to  me  as  I  beheld  its  crystal  foun- 
tains, its  colossal  statues,  its  royal  palaces,  and  its  neatly 
paved  avenues.  From  this  city  we  took  the  cars  for 
Antwerp.  I  was  ever  on  the  lookout  for  objects  of  in- 
terest, which  seemed  to  abound  on  every  hand.  On,  on 
the  iron  horse  rushed  through  villages  and  towns,  only  a 
few  of  which  I  can  here  notice.  Liege  on  the  Muse  is 
almost  on  the  boundary  line  of  Prussia  and  Belgium. 
Here  I  noticed  a  very  large  castle,  the  property,  I  presume, 
of  some  rich  lord.  Here,  as  well  as  at  all  other  places,  I 
saw  soldiers  dressed  in  the  Belgium  costume,  the  uniform 
being  dark  blue,  with  a  red  stripe  down  the  seam  of  the 
pants,  and  they  wore  large  black  fur  caps  that  I  fail  to 
describe,  with  white  plumes  in  them.  As  we  approached 
Louvan,  I  observed  the  peasantry  standing  in  front  of 
their  cottages  with  their  hands  in  their  pants'  pockets, 
pipes  in  their  mouths,  and  red  wooden  shoes  upon  their 
feet,  gazing  at  the  train.  They  looked  quite  comical. 
Machlin  on  the  Dyle  is  romantically  situated  on  the  river. 

After  a  long  ride  we  arrived  at  Antwerp.     We  remained 


26  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

a  week  in  this  city.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  week  was 
one  continuous  festal-day.  For  to  military  displays,  the 
marching  of  troops,  the  sound  of  music,  the  Hoating  of 
flags,  the  crash  of  musketry,  and  tlie  roar  of  cannon  there 
was  no  end.  While  here  I  had  the  pleasure  ol  hearing 
the  chiming  of  a  bell  from  the  highest  spire  in  the  world. 
The  cathedral  was  a  massive  structure,  and  on  a  cloudy  day 
its  spire  to  my  youthful  eyes  seemed  lost  among  the  clouds. 

At  last  the  morning  arrived  when  the  ship  was  to  set 
sail  for  the  "  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 
The  vessel  left  her  wharf  about  10  o'clock,  and  passed  down 
the  Scheldt,  and  in  a  few  hours  a  fair  wind  drove  us  far  out 
into  the  North  Sea.  To  the  east  lay  the  albin  shores,  to 
the  west  Holland,  before  us  the  boundless  ocean,  while  in 
our  rear  the  lofty  domes  and  spires  of  Antwerp  and  Rot- 
terdam were  being  lost  in  the  distance.  I  must  confess 
that  I  viewed  the  receding  shores  of  my  native  land  from 
the  deck  of  the  vessel  with  a  shade  of  sadness.  I  gave  a 
farewell  sigh,  and  in  that  sigh  expired  the  last  happy  hour 
of  my  childhood.  I  began  to  realize  what  it  was  to  leave 
the  sunny  hills  of  my  own  native  land,  never  more  to  be 
looked  upon,  to  leave  friends  never  to  be  seen  by  my  mortal 
eye.  But  here  we  were  at  last,  out  upon  the  ocean,  sailing 
over  the  watery  paths  to  a  home  beyond  the  tide. 

The  next  morning  found  us  out  of  sight  of  land.  All 
around  us  was  the  vast  deep,  bounded  only  by  the  lowering 
horizon.  About  noon  of  this  day  1  weut  down  into  the 
cabin  to  "enjoy"  an  attack  of  sea-sickness,  which  lasted 
a  couple  of  days. 

For  six  long  weeks  the  monotony  of  a  treacherous  voy- 
age was  only  broken  by  the  occasional  passing  of  a  vessel. 

Great  extremes  are  often  witnessed  in  the  passage  over 
the  Atlantic.  While  I  have  seen  the  ocean  waves  so  high 
that,  as  their  huge  surges  dashed  against  the  sides  of  the 
ship,  a  vast  volume  of  water  would  roll  over  the  deck  with 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  27 

such  violence  as  seemed  to  sweep  everything  before  it;  I 
have  also  seen  the  bosom  of  the  deep  so  cahn  that  not  a 
ripple  or  wavelet  could  be  discovered.  I  have  seen  the  sun 
sink  into  the  ocean  like  a  ball  of  fire.  Oh,  who  can  relate 
the  beauties  of  sunrise  or  sunset  at  sea?  I  have  seen  the 
rainbow,  after  some  tempest  had  shook  the  mighty  deep, 
span  its  great  arch  over  the  angry  waters  in  colors  so  beau- 
tiful as  to  make  one  forget  the  dread  frowns  of  the  storm- 
cloud  whicli  had  just  displayed  the  wrath  and  power  of  the 
Almighty.  I  remember  at  sunset  one  evening,  a  lot  of 
passengers  had  gathered  on  the  bow  of  the  boat,  and  so 
calm  was  the  water,  that  a  little  crust  of  dry  bread  cast 
into  the  sea  by  a  passenger,  showed  that  the  vessel  was 
making  none  or  but  little  progress.  While  there  were 
many  lively  incidents  connected  with  our  ocean  voyage, 
yet  I  did  not  enjoy  the  passage. 

Day  after  day,  on  over  the  great  Atlantic,  amid  its  fierce 
rolling  waves  we  sailed,  when,  one  evening,  as  the  passen- 
gers were  on  deck  watching  the  sun  sink  into  his  watery 
grave,  and  the  sea-birds  S2)orting  over  the  water,  the  cap- 
tain informed  us  that  on  the  morrow  we  would  see  land! 
Upon  the  announcement  of  this  there  went  up  a  shout  of 
gladness  from  the  entire  company.  And  hope  beamed 
from  the  merry  countenance  and  sparkling  eyes  of  many  a 
youth  and  maiden,  as  they  looked  at  each  other  and  re-as- 
sured themselves  of  happy  homes  on  the  nearing  shores  — 
homes  where  sorrow  could  never  enter.  We  all  retired 
earlier  than  usual  that  night,  in  order  that  we  might  rise 
early  to  behold  coming  events. 

The  first  rays  of  light  on  the  following  morning  found 
a  goodly  number  on  deck  looking,  if  haply  land  might  bo 
discovered.  Peering  through  morn's  early  dusk,  a  dark 
outline  loomed  up  in  the  distance.  "I  see  land!  I  see 
land!"  exd'aimed  a  dozen  voices.  And  a  thrill  of  joy  ran 
from  heart  to  heart.     All  were  wild  with  excitement. 


28  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

In  the  meantime  the  sun  made  his  appearance  in  the 
east.  And  before  us  the  American  continent  presented  its 
rock-bound  shores,  its  forests,  its  mountains  and  its  hills 
and  dales.  Far  inland  I  espied  the  spires  and  massive 
brick  walls  of  IS'ew  York  Citj.  As  we  neared  the  harbor, 
vessels  from  every  clime,  and  of  every  size — from  a  little 
schooner  up  to  the  mighty  steamship — thronged  the  waters, 
some  going,  some  coming — the  large  ocean  steamships  mov- 
ing like  floating  palaces  among  the  minor  crafts. 


PERSONAL    KKCOLLECTIONS.  29 


CHAPTER   III. 

Landing — A  Suddex  Reverse — STAKVArmN — Thk  Wfep- 
INO  Mother — Befriended. 

Upon  landing,  my  father  tailed  to  find  liis  baggage,  and 
the  whole  of  it,  together  with  all  the  money,  must  have  been 
stolen,  either  in  Antwerp  after  he  shipped  it,  or  in  New 
York  by  the  "  sharpers,"  who  are  the  pest  of  the  immigrant. 
This  was  a  dark  hour  for  father.  Oast  on  a  foreign  shore 
without  a  dollar,  with  three  children,  and  no  home  nor 
friends.  All  our  clothing  being  in  the  lost  chests,  we  had 
nothing  but  what  was  on  our  persons.  He  procured  a 
place  for  us  to  stay  while  he  tried  to  iind  work. 

I  can  do  no  more  than  accept  the  oft-repeated  statements 
from  my  parents  in  regard  to  the  loss  of  their  money  and 
clothing.  But  it  always  seemed  strange  to  me  why  my 
father  should  put  his  money  into  a  chest — shrewd  man 
that  he  was — and  why  he  took  no  security  from  the  ship- 
owners for  the  baoforaofe. 

It  would  seem  that  my  father  thought  his  goods  aboard 
the  ship  all  the  while  until  he  came  to  look  for  them  in 
New  York,  when,  though  he  repeatedly  went  to  the  ship- 
owner, he  could  learn  nothing  of  what  had  become  of  them. 

That  he  lost  much  in  money,  I  have  always  believed,  for 
mother  over  and  over  referred  to  the  loss,  and  doubtless 
that,  with  other  events  which  I  will  soon  record,  hastened 
her  untimely  death.  Not  only  was  all  the  money  lost,  but 
all  our  clothing,  and  we  must  have  had  enough  to  last  us 
several  years. 

But  the  saddest  spectacle  of  all  was  to  see  poor  mother, 
for   she   seemed    almost   crushed    under   our    misfortune. 


30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Wearied  bj  the  long  journey  and  no  place  to  refresh  our- 
selves, nor  friends  to  sympathize  with  us,  it  was  very  dark. 

During  the  day,  mother  worked  hard  over  the  wash-tub 
in  washing  such  garments  as  she  could.  It  is  with  pride  I 
refer  to  this.  She  knew  how  to  preside  at  the  wash-tub  as 
well  as  in  refined  society,  and  in  the  present  case,  in  more 
respects  than  one,  it  was  a  necessity. 

Alone  among  strangers  and  stopping  at  a  house  where 
we  were  not  welcomed,  because  we  had  no  money,  knowing 
that  poverty  was  now  staring  us  in  the  face,  she  doubtless 
thought  of  her  native  land  and  of  the  happy  home  across 
the  waters  so  recently  and  reluctantly  left,  for  every  now 
and  then  I  noticed  the  silent  tears  stealing  down  her  care- 
worn cheek.  I  felt  so  sad  to  see  her  weep,  that  I  tried  to 
comfort  her  all  I  could  by  putting  my  arms  about  her 
neck,  and  kissing  away  the  falling  tears.  It  was  all  I  could 
do.  Oh,  what  heart-aching  reflections  she  must  have  had 
on  that  day,  left  as  she  was  in  a  strange  city,  all  alone  with 
the  care  of  three  children. 

Our  circumstances  were  very  distressing!  We  had  not 
one  cent.  We  did  not  even  have  a  dinner  to  stay  our  hun- 
ger. In  the  evening,  father  returned,  his  efforts  having 
been  fruitless.  All  hope  seemed  now  to  be  gone.  Kot  a 
mouthful  of  food  had  we  tasted  since  morning,  and  the  land- 
lord refused  us  shelter  for  the  night. 

Truly  it  was  a  trying  time.  My  father  had  wandered 
all  over  the  great  city  in  vain,  looking  for  work,  until,  foot- 
sore, faint  with  hunger,  and  discouraged,  he  returned  to  his 
family. 

Mother  had  worked  hard  in  trying  to  cleanse  our  gar- 
ments and  our  persons,  and  all  this  without  so  much  as  a 
dry  crust  of  bread,  while  the  children  were  fainj:  for  very 
hunger.  These  things  are  beyond  the  power  of  pen  to  de- 
scribe. The  ceaseless  tread,  the  bustle  of  the  scrambling 
crowd,  the  strange  sounds  of  an  unknown  tougne,  of  which 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  31 

we  could  not  understand  a  word,  all  seemed  to  mock  us  in 
our  liumiliation,  and  in  our  distressing  proverty;  for  in 
New  York  City,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  the  poor  immigrant 
and  his  family  oftener  meet  with  ridicule  for  their  strange 
costume  and  inability  to  speak  the  language,  than  with 
sympathy  and  protection.  What  to  do,  or  where  to  go, 
father  did  not  know.  He  learned,  however,  that  a  steamer 
was  about  to  start  for  Albany,  N.  Y.,  where  the  chances  of 
obtaining  work  were  much  greater.  We  went  aboard. 
How  father  obtained  passage,  I  do  not  know.  The  night 
was  a  supperless  one,  and  it  was  long  and  dismal.  It  was 
too  cold  to  sleep,  and  we  were  so  hungry  that  the  minutes 
seemed  hours  to  us. 

The  great  steamer,  like  a  thing  of  life,  plowed  the  waters 
of  the  noble  Hudson — Hudson  so  justly  celebrated  for  its 
varied  and  enchanting  sceneries,  and,  in  these  respects,  not 
unlike  the  Rhine;  but  how  changed  our  condition!  The 
outline  of  the  towering  mountains  now  only  seemed  a 
dreary  mocking  mass,  the  lights  streaming  from  the  towns 
and  villages  as  we  passed  along  only  mocked  us  by  their 
seeming  friendly  rays,  for  there  was  no  spread  table  to  wel- 
come us,  and  ever,  whether  weeping  or  pleading  at  my 
mother's  knee  for  just  a  crust,  this  something  gnawing 
within  would  not  be  satisfied.  O  merciful  Father,  send  us 
a  loaf  of  bread ! 

At  length  morning  dawned,  and  the  steamer  landed  us 
at  Albany  about  four  o'clock.  Father  at  once  found  a 
place  for  us  to  stay  in  the  ruins  of  a  burnt  building,  while 
he  again  looked  for  work.  Again  we  were  left  alone,  and 
for  an  hour  we  shivered  with  the  cold.  After  a  while,  how- 
ever, the  sun  warmed  our  chilled  bodies.  This  day  was 
more  dreary  to  mother  than  the  day  before,  for  we  had  not 
only  to  contend  with  the  cravings  of  hunger,  but  had  to  en- 
dure the  vulgar  jests  and  unfeeling  flings  of  idle  gazers. 
Poor  woman!  she  wept  most  of  the  entire  day.     Though 


32  ArTOBIOGRAPHT. 

hunger  was  gnawing  at  our  vitals,  yet  we  murmured  as  lit- 
tle as  possible.  Mary,  our  only  sister,  was  then  an  infant 
in  mother's  arms,  and  sick.  JS'otwithstanding  the  sorrow 
and  grief,  as  well  as  hunger  and  the  care  of  a  sick  baby, 
which,  combined,  were  fast  bending  her  down  in  anguish, 
we  children,  towards  night,  our  reasons  overcome  by  the  no- 
longer-endurable  cravings  of  hunger,  huddled  around  her 
and  entreated  her  with  weeping  eyes  to  give  us  something 
to  eat. 

There  within  the  blackened  and  charred  walls,  window- 
less  and  doorless  and  roofless,  exposed  to  the  night  air 
and  falling  dew,  with  stomachs  so  faint  we  could  not  stand 
or  walk,  with  eyes  red  with  weeping,  mother  patiently 
tried  to  quiet  us,  while  waiting  the  return  of  father,  as- 
suring us  that  perhaps  with  his  return  relief  might  come- 
Gladly  would  she  have  given  us,  for  she  was  always  so 
kind,  but  she  had  not  wherewith  to  give.  Poor  woman, 
with  her  babe  clasped  to  her  bosom,  fast  folded  in  her  arms, 
she  herself  seated  upon  a  stone  in  the  ruins  of  that  burned 
buildino^,  and  we  bovs  clino^ino^  bv  her  side  moaninor  for  a 
morsel  to  satisfv  the  cravin2:s  of  huno:er,  was  more  than 
the  stoutest  heart  could  see  unmoved.  O  God  pity  the 
helpless  I 

Father  returned  in  the  evening,  tired  and  hungry,  and 
tears  stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  said,  "  I  can  find  no  work." 
Then  and  there  father  and  mother  sobbed  aloud  as  if  their 
hearts  would  break,  while  we  children  in  mercy  cried  for 
somethino:  to  eat.  Alreadv  we  had  tasted  no  food  for  two 
days,  and  starvation  was  doing  its  work. 

How  changed  all  this  from  our  happy  home  upon  the 
Ehine!  Trulv  the  dav-dreams  of  America  had  lono:  aofo 
fled.  AVe  were  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  helpless,  and 
reduced  to  poverty  —  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  Oh,  is 
there  none  to  help,  none  to  pity  ?  Must  we  lay  down  within 
these  ruins,  thousands  of  miles  from  our  own  dear  land, 


PERSONAL    KKCOLLECTIONS.  33 

and  die?  Is  there  no  heart  of  sympathy,  no  arm  to  deliver? 
O  great  God,  thou  who  feedest  the  ravens,  and  clothest 
the  flowers  of  the  field,  feed  us  and  slielter  us  in  this  far- 
away land. 

But  there  was  now  no  alternative  for  us  except  to  pass 
the  nisfht  in  tlic  ruins  of  the  old  huildinir.  Mother  was  so 
exhausted  by  this  time  that  she  was  almost  lielpless.  So 
father  tried  to  make  the  best  bed  he  could.  Upon  taking 
some  clothing  out  of  a  large  traveling  bag,  he  found  a  piece 
of  dried  beef  which  was  there  unknown  to  us.  AVe  offered 
up  thanks  to  heaven  for  its  discovery.  But  it  was  only  a 
crumb  for  so  many  mouths.  Yet  it  was  the  sweetest  and 
most-relished  meal  —  if  meal  it  can  be  called  —  ever  par- 
taken of.  and  it  was  the  first  food  since  landing  on  the  con- 
tinent. 

Oh,  how  changed  the  condition !  There  in  the  ruins  with 
nothing  but  heaven  to  shelter  us,  we  huddled  together  to 
repose  in  sleep.  But  it  was  so  cold  that  we  could  neither 
sleep  nor  remain  quiet,  so,  as  a  last  extremity,  father  gath- 
ered some  sticks  and  built  a  tire  in  the  ruins  to  aid  us  in 
keeping  warm.  The  light  soon  attracted  some  citizens  to 
the  spot  to  learn  as  to  its  cause.  To  their  inquiries,  father 
told  them  his  condition,  and  how  he  had  lost  everything; 
how  he  had  looked  for  work  without  success,  and  that  his 
family  was  there  helpless. 

When  father  had  related  these  events,  a  noble  and  kind- 
hearted  gentleman  —  may  he  reap  his  reward  in  heaven  — 
stepped  forward  and  volunteered  to  take  us  to  his  house. 
We  gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  bid  farewell  to  the 
old  ruins.  Taking  us  through  several  streets,  we  came  to 
his  home.  He  invited  us  in,  and  soon  had  a  bountiful  supper 
prepared  for  us.  We  ate  until  we  were  ashamed  to  eat 
more,  so  hungry  were  we.  After  supper  tlie  evening  was 
spent  in  conversation — for  he  was  a  German.  We  children, 
however,  retired  early,  and  so  did  mother.  Oh,  it  seemed 
3  " 


34  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

SO  good  to  be  in  a  quiet  room  once  more,  for  the  constant 
rocking  and  tossing  of  the  vessel,  the  running  to  and  fro 
on  the  deck  at  all  hours  of  the  night,  the  sounding  of  the 
waves  against  the  sides  of  the  ship,  had  broken  us  more  or 
less  of  our  rest.  How  sweet  and  refreshing  sleep  was  to 
us  that  night — especially  to  poor  mother! 

However  strange  it  may  seem  to  the  reader,  yet  during 
that  night  and  for  several  days  we  experienced  the  peculiar 
motion  of  the  vessel.  It  must  be  felt  —  it  cannot  be  de- 
scribed. 

"With  all  my  diligent  inquiries  in  after  years,  I  was  never 
able  to  learn  our  benefactor's  name,  and  I  presume  never 
will  in  this  world,  but  verily  he  will  never  lose  his  reward. 
The  act  shall  be  cherished  in  my  memory  until  the  latest 
breath  of  time,  and  in  heaven  (for  such  a  good  man  must 
go  to  heaven),  I  will  thank  him  for  the  mighty  deliverance. 
Such  acts  are  the  wayside  angels  that  must  make  glad  the 
very  lieart  of  God,  and  call  forth  the  admiration  of  wander- 
ing angels,  as  it  certainly  called  forth  our  unfeigned  and 
everlasting  gratitude. 


PKK60NAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  35 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Seeking  a  Home — Keddced  to  Beggary — The  Effects  of 
AN  Unaccdstomed  Climate — Embarrassment  for  tue 
Want  of  Language — Being  Fired  Upon. 

In  the  morning,  after  a  bountiful  breakfast,  and  many 
thanks  to  the  very  kind  gentleman  for  his  hospitality,  and 
being  much  refreshed,  we  set  out  on  foot  to  find  a  home. 
Crossing:  the  Hudson,  we  traveled  into  the  countrv. 

About  10  o'clock,  we  children  became  so  tired  that  we 
entreated  the  privilege  of  sitting  down  by  the  road-side  to 
rest  our  weary  feet  and  aching  limbs. 

At  noon  we  took  dinner  with  a  German  family,  where 
we  remained  until  two  o'clock. 

Towards  evening,  after  a  day  of  weary  walking,  father 
succeeded  in  finding  work,  and  we  moved  into  a  small 
house  on  the  farm. 

I  have  no  remembrance  of  dates  of  months  as  yet,  and 
hence  can  only  reckon  time  by  the  seasons.  This  must 
have  been  the  last  of  May  or  the  first  of  June,  184S,  for 
corn  was  just  coming  up.  My  father  went  to  work,  but  he 
could  draw  no  wages  till  he  had  earned  some,  so  there 
seemed  no  alternative  for  us  but  to  beg.  This  was  very 
trying  to  mother.  She  grieved  much  over  the  thought  that 
her  children  were  now  compelled  to  go  from  door  to  door 
and  beo:  for  a  livino^. 

Life,  indeed,  looked  dark  and  wearisome  to  her. 

I,  being  the  only  one  of  the  children  large  enough,  had 
to  perforin  this  task.  Oli,  how  changed  the  condition  of 
only  a  few  months  ago!  How  the  memory  of  my  home  on 
the    Rhine  followed    me  wherever    1  went.     AVhat  bitter 


36  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

pangs  the  humble,  destitute  and  helpless  condition  brought 
to  our  aching  hearts.  Oh,  how  hard  for  one  who  had  never 
known  or  felt  a  want,  now  to  go  among  strangers,  of  whose 
lano-uao-e  I  knew  not  a  word,  to  ask  alms!  Oh,  it  was  so 
humiliating!  All  summer  I  had  to  do  this.  Oh,  how  tire- 
some to  travel  all  day  in  the  dust  and  under  the  burning  rays 
of  the  sun  in  a  climate  much  warmer  than  was  ours!  It 
had  such  a  peculiar  effect  upon  me.  During  the  hot  honrs 
of  noonday,  my  limbs  would  feel  as  if  they  would  sink 
under  me.  I  will  not  attempt  to  picture  the  misery  and 
heart-achings  endured  this  summer.     Ah,  how  can  I? 

Father  worked  hard,  early  and  late,  for  Mr.  Yanalstine, 
in  hopes  of  providing  for  his  family,  but  was  turned  away 
in  the  fall  without  a  cent  of  his  wages. 

We  learned  when  it  was  too  late,  that  this  man,  Yanal- 
stine, made  it  a  practice  to  procure  foreign  help  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  laws  and  usages  of  this  country,  and  have 
them  work  through  the  season,  and  then  turn  them  away 
without  their  wages.  This,  it  seems,  was  the  unhappy 
luck  of  my  poor  discouraged  father.  Oh,  it  went  so  hard 
with  him!  Mr.  Yanalstine  was  not  only  mean,  but  ugly, 
for,  after  the  season  of  farm  labor  had  closed,  and  he  had 
withheld  my  father's  wages,  he  tried  to  get  rid  of  us  alto- 
gether. We  were  living  in  a  small  dwelling-house  on  his 
farm,  and  had  to  go  to  the  stock-yard  for  the  water  we  used. 
This,  at  the  close  of  my  father's  services,  he  forbade  us  to 
do.  We  disregarded  his  unreasonable  requests,  and  ob- 
tained water  as  before.  Indeed  it  was  the  only  place  where 
we  could  obtain  it.  One  Sabbath,  at  the  request  of  mother, 
Peter  and  I  went  to  the  stock-yard  pump  for  some  water. 
Mr.  Yanalstine  saw  us,  and  shouted  to  us  to  pour  the  water 
upon  the  ground.  This  we  refused  to  do.  Upon  this,  he 
fired  a  gun,  the  report  of  which  frightened  us,  and  wx  ran 
to  the  house.  I  do  not  suppose  it  was  loaded,  but  was  only 
intended  to  scare  us,  which  it  certainly  did.     But  then  we 


PKIISONAL    RKfN.l.J.K'lloMj.  37 

were  poor  and  helpless  and  wo  had  to  endure  these  insults 
without  redress.  Doubtless  my  father  would  have  used  the 
law  in  collecting  his  wages,  but  he  was  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land,  and  knew  nothing  of  its  laws. 

The  place  where  my  father  worked  was  Blooming 
Grove — sometimes  called  Bath — and  is  about  two  miles 
east  of  Greenbush.  The  farm  was  about  a  mile  south  of 
the  village.  That  the  reader  may  not  express  surprise  with 
the  reflection  that  we  had  only  traveled  two  miles  from 
Albany,  and  hence  could  not  have  been  very  tired,  I  would 
explain  that  we  wandered  up  one  road  and  down  another, 
looking  for  a  home.'  We  traveled  far  enough  to  have  taken 
us  to  Sand  Lake. 

Coming  to  a  new  country  and  among  a  strange  people, 
one  is  met  with  constant  surprises,  both  in  society  and  in 
nature.  For  example:  I  was  excited  beyond  measure  to  hear 
the  song  of  the  mosquito  in  the  twilight,  or  to  see,  when 
later  and  darker,  the  flashes  of  light  from  the  lightning- 
bug,  and  I  suppose  I  was  about  as  green  as  the  two  Irish- 
men who  came  to  this  country  and  happened  out  in  the 
country  in  the  edge  of  the  evening,  and  were  being  follow- 
ed by  the  mosquito,  when  one  proposed  to  the  other  that 
they  lie  down  upon  the  ground  and  cover  themselves  up 
with  their  blankets  until  the  mosquito  had  lost  them. 
They  did  so.  Laying  some  time,  one  thought  he  would 
peep  out  from  under  his  covering,  when,  behold,  he  espied 
a  lightning-bug.  Upon  this  he  turned  to  his  companion, 
exclaiming,  *'It's  of  no  use;  they  are  out  here  (meaning  the 
mosquitoes)  with  lanterns  looking  for  us!"  Well,  many 
things  struck  me  about  as  strangely. 

Most  of  the  people  in  this  section  were  wealthy,  and  in 
many  houses  I  saw  colored  girls  as  servants  at  the  table, 
and  these  servants  invariably  wore  a  yellow  dress,  and  the 
hair  was  done  up  in  a  pyramidal  shape  on  the  crown  of  the 
head. 


38  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

This  reminds  me  of  an  incident  which  took  place  in  New 
York,  and  which  I  ought  to  have  narrated  elsewhere,  for  it 
had  such  an  effect  upon  me  at  the  time:  While  in  'New 
York  city,  I  happened  to  be  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the 
hotel  where  we  stopped,  my  attention  all  absorbed  in 
investigating  a  peanut  which  I  had  found  in  the  street,  and 
something  I  had  never  seen,  when  all  at  once  I  felt  a  man's 
hand  resting  on  ray  head.  Upon  looking  up,  I  was  terror- 
struck,  for  behold  a  huge  black  face,  with  jet  black  eyes, 
clear  white  teeth,  and  with  a  mouth  stretched  from 
ear  to  ear,  was  grinning  at  me.  I  was  so  frightened 
that  I  gasped  for  breath.  I  thought'  it  was  the  devil 
himself,  let  loose  from  hell,  who  had  surely  come  after  me.  I 
shrieked  for  mercy,  and  begged  him  to  spare  me  a  little  while 
longer,  and,  amid  despairing,  sobs,  cried  out  for  •  mother  to 
rescue  me.  It  was  fun  for  him,  but  terror  to  me.  This, 
of  course,  was  the  first  negro  I  had  ever  seen — as  the  negro 
is  unknown  in  Germany — at  least  so  far  as  I  know.  The 
peanut  is  also  unknown.  Thus  many  things  were  both 
new  and  strange  to  me. 


PERSONAL    RKCOLLECTIONS.  39 


CHAPTER  V. 

Removal — Father  in  Jail — Distress  at  Home. 

From  Bloominfr  Grove  we  moved  some  three  miles  sontli- 
east  where  father  had  taken  nine  acres  of  potatoes  to  dig 
on  shares.  Here  a  new  field  of  labor  presented  itself.  From 
morning  till  night  I  had  to  pull  potato  tops,  and  carry  the 
potatoes  into  piles.  It  was  liard,  tiresome  work,  yet  much 
easier  than  begging.     The  autumn  passed  quickly  away. 

Only  a  few  incidents,  and  I  pass.  As  before  observed, 
we  used  no  stoves  in  Germany,  hence  my  mother  was  en- 
tirely ignorant  as  to  their  use.  In  baking  bread,  she  would 
either  burn  it  half  up,  or  it  would  be  heavy  and  of  a  lead 
color.     She  had  quite  a  time  in  learning  to  cook  on  a  stove. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon  we  children  wandered  into  the 
beautiful  grove  near  by,  noting  the  different  plants  and 
shrubs,  until  we  came  to  a  stream  of  water.  Here  we 
found  some  pieces  of  planks  near  a  place  were  the  flood- 
wood  choked  up  the  water.  We  crossed  and  re-crossed 
upon  a  raft  made  of  these  planks,  and  were  having  a 
fine  time,  when  the  raft  in  mid-stream  came  to  pieces  and 
we  were  let  into  the  water,  which  was  over  our  heads. 
We  worked  hard,  and  at  last  I  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
shore;  but  Peter  was  yet  floundering  in  deep  water,  and 
apparently  drowning.  I  set  up  a  cry  for  help,  but  we  were 
away  from  the  hearing  of  any  one,  and  he  was  going  down 
for  the  third  time.  Terror-stricken,  I  leaped  into  the 
water,  and  caught  hold  of  the  middle  of  a  plank,  and,  as  he 
came  up,  gasping  for  breath,  I  grabbed  him  by  the  hair  of 
the  head,  and  held  his  head  upon  the  plank.  With  one 
hand  and  arm  across  the  plank,  with  a  firm  grasp  in  the 
hair  of  Peter's  head,  and  with  the  other  stroking  in  the 


40  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

water,  aud  sliputing  at  tlie  top  of  my  voice  for  help,  I 
succeeded  at  last  in  reaching  the  shore.  The  reader  maj 
rest  assured  that  we  did  not  go  near  that  brook  again. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon  an  old  decrepit  man  came  to  our 
house.  He  was  very  strange  acting.  After  gibbering  to 
us  children  a  while,  and  frightening  us  very  much,  he  went 
out  into  the  potato-patch,  picked  up  a  handful  of  tops  and 
wiped  his  mouth  with  them,  saying,  as  he  did  so,  that  it 
was  a  testimony  against  us  for  refusing  him  bread.  I 
could  not  comprehend  this,  as  mother  had  just  given  him 
something  to  eat. 

Winter  drew  on  apace.  The  falling  leaves,  the  ripening 
nuts,  the  cold  frosty  mornings,  chilling  northern  blasts,  all 
proclaimed  that  soon  we  would  experience  our  first  Ameri- 
can winter. 

We  were  poor,  and  had  no  money,  hence  we  obtained 
permission  of  the  proprietor  of  the  grove  above  referred  to, 
to  pick  up  such  limbs  as  might  be  on  the  ground  rotting. 
Hence,  our  fuel  was  gathered  by  picking  up  such  limbs  in 
the  woods  as  lay  on  the  ground  decaying.  A  Yankee 
neighbor,  who  evidently  was  too  sensitive  to  have  a  quiet, 
peaceable  German  family  live  within  half  a  mile  of  him, 
represented  to  the  owner  of  the  forest,  who  lived  in  the 
city,  that  we  were  cutting  down  the  most  promising  trees 
in  his  woods. 

As  a  result,  father  was  arrested  and  lodged  in  jail  in 
Troy,  being  forced  to  leave  his  family  in  mid- winter  with- 
out the  necessaries  of  life. 

I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  lawfully  imprisoned  or 
not.  I  can  only  give  the  event  as  it  occurred.  Mother  was 
now  left  in  the  dead  of  winter  with  a  family  of  children,  in 
a  small  open  house,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  woods, 
and  over  half  a  mile  from  any  human  being.  We  got 
along  the  first  week  of  my  father's  imprisonment  quite 
comfortably  so  far  as  food  was  concerned.     Though  I   re- 


PERSONAL    KKCOLLECTIONS.  41 

member  mother  often  sat  down  and  wept  bitter  tears.  Pour 
woman!  pen  refuses  to  write  down  lier  sufferings. 

During  this  time,  our  drum-oven  stove  refused  to  bake, 
so  mother  took  the  sheet-iron  druHi  apart,  and  cleaned  out 
the  ashes.  It  was  in  the  morning  she  commenced  her 
work.  The  taking  apart  was  only  a  task  of  a  few  minutes, 
but  when  she  came  to  put  it  together  again,  she  was  not 
equal  to  the  task. 

For  ten  mortal  hours  she  w^orked  over  that  drum-oven  in 
the  cold  of  winter,  without  success.  I  tried  to  help  her  all 
I  could,  but  I  was  not  large  enough  to  be  ot  much  service. 
Faithfully  had  she  worked  until  about  noon,  when  she  be- 
came discouraged.  She  left  it,  sat  down  and  wept.  But 
this  would  not  do,  so  she  went  at  it  again.  Three  times 
she  gave  it  up,  and  then  would  make  another  attempt.  We 
suffered  with  the  cold,  and  her  lingers  were  so  stiff  with 
the  cold  that  she  could  hardly  use  them.  But,  about  dark, 
she  succeeded  in  getting  it  in  its  place,  and  a  united  prayer 
went  up  to  heaven  for  the  deliverance. 

But  father  was  still  kept  in  prison  ten  miles  away.  We 
had  no  food,  and  as  a  necessity,  1  was  again  forced  to  beg. 
Oh,  how  I  suffered  as  I  had  to  weather  the  piercing  storms 
of  winter!  Being  poorly  clad,  I  froze  my  hands,  my  feet, 
nose  and  ears.  Oh,  the  suti'erings  endured  while  wading 
throut^h  the  driftinj;  snows! 

At  length  father  returned  to  us,  being  released  from  pris- 
on. Oh,  what  an  object  of  pity  I  He  was  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  vermin.  He  said  he  could  not  help  it. 
His  quarters  in  the  jail  were  lilthy  and  repulsive.  He  sieem- 
ed  to  be  a  broken-down  and  discouraged  man.  From  that 
day  he  wore  a  sad,  dejected  look. 


42  ATJTOBIOGRAPUY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Removal — The  Old  Steam  Saavmill — Moke  Sorrows — 
Forced  to  Beg — Frozen  Feet- — Climbing  the  Moun- 
tains —  A  Whipping  —  Run  away  —  Return  —  Given 
Away. 

In  the  spring  father  moved  to  East  Sand  Lake.  Here 
the  real  sorrow  of  mj  life  began.  One  would  think  that 
the  summer  and  winter  just  past  were  enough,  but  thej 
were  only  a  forerunner  of  what  was  in  the  near  future. 
Up  to  this  time  our  struggles  and  sorrows  were  in  com- 
mon, and  our  mutual  sympathy  soothed  many  a  weary 
hour. 

But  there  was  another  enemy  at  our  door — it  was  a  heil- 
born  enemy — than  whom  there  is  not  another  in  the  land 
more  heartless  and  home-destroying.  It  is  rum.  It  pains 
me  to  record  it  here,  but  as  truthfulness  constitutes  the 
merit  of  this  narrative,  I  must  write  down  these  events 
however  heart-rending.  Father  took  to  drinking,  and  in 
writing  this  I  pity  the  man;  his  troubles  were  great  and 
his  discouragements  more.  The  accursed  demon  alcohol 
stole  away  his  affections  for  his  wife  and  children,  and  it 
made  him  recreant  and  a  burden  to  us.  Added  to  this,  we 
had  no  means  of  support.  Oh,  what  a  trial  it  was  to  my 
poor  mother!  Her  tears  and  her  sighs  left  a  lasting  impres- 
sion upon  me. 

I  think  there  is  something  radically  the  cause  of  the 
false  and  rash  act  in  the  man  who  will  go  to  drinking  sim- 
ply because  troubles  crowd  upon  him.  It  ever  a  man  wants 
to  keep  a  pure  heart,  a  clear  conscience,  and  a  balanced 
head,  it  is  when  in  trouble.     God  will  help  those  who  will 


PERSONAL    RIXOLLECTIONS.  43 

put  their  trust  in  him.  In  the  day  of  your  adversity,  oh, 
young  man,  stand  in  the  dignity  of  your  manhood,  with 
brow  toward  heaven,  and  back  to  every  snare  of  hell.  All 
heaven  is  pledged  to  lielp  you,  if  you  will  but  perform 
your  part.  Oh,  that  we  had  the  moral  heroes  that  would 
dare  to  do  right  at  any  cost! 

But  what  a  slimy  monster  intemperance  is.  What  ruin 
has  it  not  wrought?  For  seven  years  I  have  denounced 
this  vice,  presented  it  in  all  its  naked  deformity,  and  laith- 
fully  warned  the  young  to  touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not, 
for  in  it  is  the  deadly  sting  of  the  poisoned  adder.  With- 
out speaking  disrespectfully  of  my  father,  I  do  claim  that 
had  liquor  been  let  alone,  he  could  have  struggled  over  all 
obstacles  (and  we  would  have  gladly  helped  him  in  the 
effort),  and  in  this  country  of  opportunities  have  rendered 
his  family  ha]>py  in  an  unbroken  home  circle,  had  th:it  home 
been  ever  so  humble. 

Yes,  it  is  this  demon  of  hell  which  wrought  our  ruin, 
and  hence  it  is  that  the  Golden  Censer  wages  eternal  war 
against  the  rum  power.  I  have  often  been  blamed  by  people 
— yes,  Christian  people — for  my  earnestness  in  warning  the 
public  of  this  enemy.  But  despite  their  chidings  and  dis- 
couragements, I  have  continued  to  hold  up  this  evil  in  all 
its  naked  deformity.  There  is  no  compromise  with  me  in 
this  matter.  No  one  need  be  in  doubt  long  on  this  issue 
as  to  where  I  stand. 

"  I  here  declare  eternal  sLi'ife, 
Ay,  battle  to  the  hilt,  with  those 
Who  traffic  in  the  nation's  woes, 
And  live  upon  the  nation's  life." 

Had  I  the  power,  I  would  go  up  and  down  this  broad 
land,  enter  every  city  and  every  street,  and  write  in  letters 
of  living  tire  over  the  door  of  every  saloon,  with  the  blood 
of  sixty   thousand  yearly  victims  to  this  fell  destroyer, 


44  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

"  This  is  the  gateway  to  hell :  as  jou  value  your  immortal 
souls,  enter  not." 

O  young  reader,  be  warned;  be  warned  in  time!  All 
along  the  pathway  of  your  mortal  life  are  reared  the  scarlet 
altars  of  intemperance.  Two  hundred  thousand  I  Pause 
a  moment  and  read  these  figures  again;  two  hundred  thou- 
sand yearly  worship  at  these  altars  of  hell;  and  sixty  thou- 
sand are  ofiered  as  victims  on  these  altars  of  intemperance. 
And  have  you  ever  thought  of  the  terrible  effects  of  this 
rank  poison,  its  terrible  workings  upon  the  brain  ?  In  short, 
have  you  ever  seen  the  poor  drunkard  in  delirium  tremens? 
If  not,  come  and  see,  as  I  have  seen  him.  There  he  lies 
upon  his  bed,  at  once  the  terror  and  the  pity  of  his  friends, 
in  the  same  breath  weeping  and  laughing,  grinning  and 
sighing,  cursing  and  praying.  Ever  and  anon  the  room 
rings  with  shouts  and  shrieks,  so  terrible  as  to  attract  large 
crowds  around  him.  Would  you  look  upon  a  fellow  being 
wrecked  in  body  and  soul?  Draw  near  and  mark  those 
frightful  eyeballs,  those  distended  nostrils,  those  cadaverous 
cheeks,  that  brow,  covered  with  drops  of  cold  and  clammy 
perspiration.  See  how  he  starts  and  shudders,  and  shrieks 
for  help,  while  his  blue,  emaciated  hands  grasp  for  a  hold 
as  if  his  soul  were  drowning.  Now  his  delirious  fancy 
peoples  the  apartment  with  stalking  specters  and  menacing 
fiends,  and  he  points  to  them  with  trembling  finger,  and 
asks  you  if  you  do  not  see  their  ghostly  forms  and  hear 
their  clanking  chains,  and  as  they  glide  about  the  room, 
he  gazes  after  them  until  his  strained  eyes  seem  starting 
from  their  sockets,  and  speaks  to  them  in  awful  language. 
Then  he  thinks  his  bed  a  nest  of  slimy  snakes  and  loath- 
some vermin,  and  he  covers  his  head  in  speechless  terror, 
as  if  he  would  sink  into  the  earth  under  the  eye  of  a  basi- 
lisk, or  utters  a  feeble,  choking  cry,  and  beseeches  you  to 
tear  the  terrible  serpents  from  his  neck.  With  one  hand 
he  plucks  the  spiders  from   his  ears,  and  with   the  other 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  45 

wrenches  from  his  back  tlie  fan^s  of  scorpions.  This 
moment  lie  sighs  as  if  his  heart  were  breaking;  the  next 
he  shrieks  as  if  all  hell  were  broken  loose  upon  him.  Anon 
he  buries  his  head  beneath  the  bed-clothes  as  if  to  hide  him 
from  the  gaze  of  some  infernal  visitjint,  and  the  quick,  con- 
vulsive tremor  shoots  to  the  extremitiei^  of  his  frame. 

His  physical  energies  at  length  exhausted,  he  lies  gasping 
and  quivering  upon  his  couch,  and  his  eye^,  having  lost  all 
voluntary  motion,  roll  like  meteors,  and  his  tongue,  bitten 
and  bleeding,  hangs  from  his  foaming  mouth  like  that  of  a 
wild  horse  on  the  burning  prairies.  His  hands  are  clenched 
so  lightly  that  the  very  blood  is  forced  beneath  the  nails, 
Go  and  gaze  upon  such  a  scene  as  this,  if  you  have  the 
nerve  to  endure  it,  and  as  you  gaze  let  me  whisper  a  word 
in  your  ear:  This  is  the  work  of  alcohol.  And  some  men 
drink  it  to  get  rid  of  trouble  I  My  poor  father  thought 
he  could  thus  drown  all  his  sorrows. 

But  do  you  know^  how  the  drunkard  dies?  Come  and 
see.  There  he  lies,  helpless  as  a  babe,  and  turning  violently 
from  side  to  side  like  a  fierce  ti^irer  broutrht  to  bav  bv  the 
hunter.  There  he  lies,  consumed  within  by  slow  and  linger- 
ing tortures,  or  holding  long  communion  with  foul,  un- 
sheeted  ghosts,  or  dark  spirits  of  hell.  There  he  lies,  eyes 
bloodshot,  cheeks  haggard,  lips  shriveled,  teeth  blackened, 
hair  matted,  until  the  poor  wretch  looks  as  if  perdition  had 
alreadv  devoured  him.  Thus  he  dies,  unlamented.  None 
weep  at  his  funeral,  and  none  have  a  tear  to  shed  for  his 
memory  save  the  beggared  orphan  that  wanders  in  his 
loneliness,  the  heart-broken  widow  that  mourns  the  wreck 
of  her  earthly  hopes,  and  the  pious  parent  that  bends  over 
the  dust  of  her  son,  and  cries  in  agony:  "  O  my  son,  would 
to  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  my  son,  my  son  I" 

And  who  has  wrought  this  mighty  ruin?  Alcohol,  that 
prime  minister  of  death  and  hell.  Common  murderers 
destroy  only  the  body;  but  he,  like  the  destroying  angel 


46  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

in  Egypt,  goes  up  into  the  inner  chamber  of  that  godly 
palace,  the  soul,  and  smites  the  firstborn  of  intellect.  He 
seizes  conscience,  that  faithful  sentinel,  and  gags  him  to 
prevent  his  giving  an  alarm.  He  seizes  memory,  that  faith- 
ful secretary,  and  sends  him  away  into  relentless  exile; 
puts  out  the  eye  of  understanding  and  leaves  that  Samson 
of  the  soul  to  grope  about  in  blindness;  dethrones  reason, 
paralyzes  genius,  binds  volition  in  a  dungeon,  and  assas- 
sinates every  intellectual  and  moral  faculty  in  God's  temple. 
!N^or  is  this  all.  Alcohol  murders  the  immortal  in  man, 
and  makes  it  as  motionless  as  a  rock.  He  renders  his  vic- 
tims insensible  alike  to  the  meltings  of  Calvary  and  the 
thunders  of  Sinai.  As  one  has  said,  "  He  gives  them  ser- 
pents and  scorpions  for  bread,  and  they  go  hissing  and 
darting  through  the  whole  man,  stinging  to  madness  body 
and  soul,  turning  husbands  into  furies,  and  fathers  into 
fiends,  till  they  seem  born  of  hell  and  prepared  for  damna- 
tion; and  then  hurries  them  to  the  brink  of  the  burning 
lake  and  plunges  them  in." 

Thus  alcohol  is  man's  mightiest  foe,  hostile  to  his  high- 
est and  holiest  interest,  to  health,  fortune  and  intellect,  to 
moral  principle,  social  happiness,  and  hope  for  both  worlds. 

It  is  this  enemy  of  our  common  humanity,  the  Golden 
Censer  has  battled,  often  under  discouragements,  but  God 
being  my  helper,  I  will  battle  imto  the  eud.  Oh,  how  it 
makes  my  heart  ache  when  I  see  the  people  so  slow  to  wipe 
out  this  curse  of  humanity.  Why,  in  the  face  of  the  pray- 
ing women,  have  Christian  voters  licensed  the  rum  traffic, 
thereby  saying  in  the  ear  of  the  community,  "  We  will 
grant  these  saloons  the  instruments  of  death,  we  will  dare 
them  to  ruin  our  sons"?  For,  be  it  known  that  every 
Christian  wlio  votes  the  continuance  of  this  monster  vice, 
in  fact  says:  "  I  do  hereby  grant  the  right,  licensed,  lawful 
right,  backed  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  to  every  saloon 
in  my  community,  to  entice,  tempt,  entrap  and  ruin  my 


PERSONAL    liECOLLKCTIONS.  47 

son,  and  to  destroy  the  happiness  and  peace  of  my  family." 
And  these  Christian  fathers  wonder  why  their  sons  are  not 
converted.  Oh,  be  not  deceived!  God  is  not  mocked;  a 
curse  is  in  the  land  and  a  bliglit  is  upon  that  soul  which 
trifles  with  the  Almighty.  O  God,  who  is  sufficient  for 
these  things?  Help,  oh,  help  the  brave  souls  who  nobly  dare 
to  cry  aloud,  and  spare  not  against  this  monster  evil! 

But  what  could  we  do?  In  the  face  of  these  events  and 
surroundings,  I  was  again  forced  to  go  from  door  to  door, 
and,  by  asking  alms,  provide  for  the  family.  I  found  the 
people  disposed  to  give,  but  my  oft-repeated  visits  soon 
wearied  them,  and  many  withheld  their  charities,  scolding 
me  for  coming  so  often.  Upon  entering  a  house,  a  smiling 
face  of  a  beautiful  woman  would  turn  to  a  frowning  one,  as 
she  shut  the  door  in  my  face.  I  would  be  so  tired  that  I 
often  sank  down  in  my  steps.  INights  I  would  pass  in  barns, 
under  straw-stacks  or  by  the  road-side — for  who  would 
keep  a  beggar?  I  could  endure  all  this  during  the  warm 
season,  but  the  cold  winter  weather  tried  me.  I  had  to  go 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  in  my  trips,  and  be  gone  two 
days.  Of  course  I  had  only  such  clothes  upon  my  person 
as  I  could  beg,  which  often  were  insufficient  to  keep  me 
from  the  pinching  cold.  I  was  often  questioned  to  see  if 
I  would  not  cross  mvself  in  mv  statements,  until,  shiverino^ 
with  cold,  and  tears  in  my  eyes,  I  would  leave  of  my  own 
accord,  and  when  I  would  patiently  answer  all  their  ques- 
tions, they  would  bluflf  me  off,  by  saying  they  had  nothing 
to  give.  School-houses  used  to  be  dreaded  by  me,  for  the 
boys  would  insult  me  in  various  ways,  often  throwing  stones 
at  me.  It  was  sport  for  them,  but  I  had  feelings  which  I 
could  vent  only  in  tears.  But  there  were  some  kind  peo- 
ple, thank  God,  who  pitied  me.  Whenever  I  did  meet 
with  success,  and  I  was  loaded  down  with  j)rovisions,  the 
task  of  carrying  it  fifteen  miles  on  my  shoulders  often  so 
exhausted  me  that  sharp  knives  dissecting  every  joint  in 


48  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

me  could  have  been  no  more  painful.  If  it  was  a  stormy 
day,  my  garments  would  be  wet  through,  and  often  frozen 
on  my  person.  Moreover,  if  I  failed  to  bring  home  as 
much  as  I  could  possibly  carry  —  which  I  was  only  too 
willing  to  do  provided  the  people  gave  it  to  me — my  father 
would  whip  me  and  send  me  to  bed  hungry,  even  denying 
me  a  morsel  of  the  bread  which  I  had  begged. 

It  may  be  suggested  here  by  the  reader,  that  I  ought  to 
have  eaten  before  arriving  at  home.  To  which  I  can  only 
reply:  My  anxiety  to  please  my  father  often  caused  me  to 
forego  the  cravings  of  hunger.  Besides,  after  being  out  in 
the  cold  all  day  with  thin  clothing,  I  would  be  so  chilled, 
that  it  was  easier  to  endure  hunger  than  to  eat  frozen  bread 
while  climbing  the  mountain,  faint  under  a  heavy  load, 
amid  ice  and  snow,  on  a  cold  winter  night. 

One  day,  wearing  an  old  pair  of  boots  which  were  all 
open  at  the  toes,  and  filled  with  snow  and  ice,  a  kind  boy, 
whose  heart  was  much  larger  than  his  boots,  gave  me  a 
pair  which  were  a  little  too  small.  I  put  them  on,  but  they 
were  so  hard  that  they  soon  hurt  my  feet.  Toward  night 
they  became  almost  unendurable.  I  was  yet  ten  miles 
from  home,  and  it  was  bitter  cold.  There  was  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  brave  the  pain.  I  did  so,  arriving  late  in  the 
evening.  Upon  examination,  my  feet  were  frozen  in  my 
boots,  which  were  so  tight  that  in  pulling  them  off,  both 
of  my  great  toe  nails  pulled  out  by  the  roots  —  my  toes 
being  so  badly  frozen.     Oh!  oh!  the  misery. 

In  this  condition  I  had  to  brave  the  remaining  winter. 
Oh,  weary  life  with  all  its  bitter  pangs.  How  often  I  sighed 
to  be  at  rest  in  the  eternal  sleep  of  death. 

Upon  another  occasion,  stopping  at  a  house,  a  crazy  man 
with  a  large  butcher-knife  in  his  hand  came  at  me,  swear- 
ing he  would  kill  me  if  he  caught  me.  I  ran  for  life. 
How  far  he  chased  me  I  know  not,  but  toward  the  last  I 
was  so  near  overcome  with  exhaustion,  that  upon  looking 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  49 

around,  my  face  burned  with  heat,  and  I  could  actually  hear 
mv  heart  beat.  I  never  was  so  overcome  with  terror  in 
my  life. 

Thus,  if  the  reader  c^iii  conceive  of  the  sufferings  in 
enduring  whippings  at  home,  the  heartless  abuse  from  sel- 
fish, unthinking  people  abroad,  long,  dreary  journeys, 
frozen  feet,  hands,  and  face,  weariness  of  body  and  grief  of 
heart,  the  taunts,  sneers,  and  vulgar  jests  from  those  who 
love  mirth  at  the  expense  of  others,  you  have  the  picture 
of  three  long,  long  years  of  suffering. 

It  is  but  just  to  add  here  that  my  mother  was  an  indus- 
trious, hard-working  woman,  and  that  she  did  all  she  could 
not  only  to  relieve  me,  but  to  cheer  and  encourage  me  in 
my  weary  toils.  But  father,  under  the  influence  of  rum, 
ruled  with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  we  were  helpless  and  at  his 
mercy. 

I  will  here  relate  an  incident,  and  then  hastily  pass  over 
this  dark  picture  of  my  suffering.  One  hot  day  in  the 
month  of  August,  1  was  set  to  work  by  my  father  to  trim 
a  large,  fallen  hemlock  with  a  dull  axe.  The  dav  was  ex- 
ceedingly  warm,  and  the  sun  shone  upon  me  oppressively. 
There  was  not  the  least  rustle  of  wind  through  the  fore^t 
leaves.  Not  making  quite  as  rapid  progress  as  he  desired, 
he  threatened  me  with  a  whipping.  I  did  the  very  best  I 
could,  and  the  sweat  rolled  off  me  in  great  drops.  Not- 
withstanding ray  exertions,  about  four  oVlock  I  received 
the  promised  punishment.  Cutting  a  green  birch  rod,  he 
plied  it  upon  my  person  with  such  vigor  and  violence  that 
the  blood  flowed  from  every  gash  which  the  unrelenting 
rod  was  making.  From  head  to  feet  I  was  covered  with 
ghastly  wounds  and  bruises.  Having  satiated  his  nige  up- 
on  me,  he  ordered  me  to  start  for  home,  but  in  my  attempt 
to  do  so,  he  brought  me  to  the  ground  agiiin  with  a  severe 
blow.  Faint,  I  was  prostrated  at  his  feet,  bleeding  tV»»m 
many  wounds.  In  despair  I  entreated,  "O  father,  have 
4 


50  ATJTOBIOGKAPHY. 

mercy !  have  mercy  P^  But  it  was  to  no  purpose.  At  length 
he  abandoned  me.  Covered  with  frightful  wounds,  and 
faint,  I  gathered  up  strength,  arose  from  the  ground,  smart- 
ing under  pain,  and  went  home.  On  my  way  I  wept  bitter 
tears  from  a  deeply  wounded  heart.  I  thought  that  I  was 
outraged  without  just  cause,  and  that  too  by  a  parent  who 
ought  to  have  loved  and  protected  me,  for  I  tried  to  be  a 
good  boy  —  a  dutiful  son,  performing  patiently  every  duty 
required  of  me.  Arriving  at  home,  I  told  mother  what 
had  befallen  me,  and  entreated  her  to  protect  me.  But  she 
could  only  sympathize  with  me. 

Truly  life  was  brimful  of  suffering  and  relentless  toil. 
Oh,  would  there  not  dawn  a  brighter  day  over  my  miserable 
life?  Oh,  how  I  sighed  over  my  deplorable  condition! 
How  hap2:)y  I  thought  those  boys  who  had  kind,  doting 
parents,  comfortable  clothes,  enough  to  shield  them  from 
the  ills  of  a  life  like  mine,  who  never  knew  what  it  was  to 
weep.  Indeed,  as  I  listened  to  their  innocent  laugh,  and 
witnessed  their  merry  glee,  making  the  morning  air  vocal, 
and  the  privilege  of  going  to  school,  it  brought  to  remem- 
brance other  days,  when  I  too  was  happy,  and  in  childhood's 
glee  was  permitted  to  pluck  the  blooming  flowers  of  the 
valley,  and  to  ramble  beside  the  murmuring  streamlet. 
Alas!  when  I  think  how  changed,  it  only  adds  misery  to 
my  suffering.  Kow  despair  broods  in  midnight  darkness 
over  my  inmost  soul,  and  only  finds  relief  through  tears 
which  unbidden  flow.  0  world,  what  have  I  done,  that 
thou  art  so  cruel  to  a  defenseless,  forsaken,  uncared-for 
child  of  thine? 

All  these  things  took  place  at  the  old  saT^Tuill,  which,  by 
the  way,  at  that  time  consisted  of  only  a  huge  pile  of  saw- 
dust, some  old  machinery,  and  a  pond  filled  with  fallen 
trees,  and  of  four  log  houses.  It  was  located  about  four 
miles  up  the  mountains,  east  from  East  Sand  Lake,  and,  in 
my  begging  tours,  I  had  to  descend  these  mountains  before 
reaching  people  who  were  able  to  give. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLI-XrnONS.  51 

We  lived  in  this  place  about  a  year  and  a  half.  And  it 
was  emphatically  a  mountain  lite,  for  the  rugged  crags 
towered  high  in  air,  and  the  dense  forests  of  hemlock,  pine, 
beech,  and  other  large  trees,  were  imposing  and  wild  in 
their  appearance.  The  only  thing  very  attractive  to  me  in 
this  wild  home  of  the  forest,  was  its  water,  which,  pure, 
sweet,  and  sparkling,  bubbled  out  of  the  ground  in  many 
places.  The  birds,  too,  in  summer  time,  made  the  solitude 
vocal  with  their  sweet  songs.  In  winter  I  could  go  out  to 
some  sunny  southern  spot  and  pick  the  wintergreen,  fresh 
and  beautiful,  when  all  around  was  deep  snow.  These  were 
some  of  the  things  that  cheered  my  poor  aching  heart,  for 
I  loved  nature  in  all  its  aspects  and  under  its  varied  forms. 
The  blessed  Savior  loved  the  solitudes  of  the  mountains; 
he  told  of  the  birds,  and  called  our  attention  to  the  'Milies 
of  the  vallev.'^  declarino:  that  "  Solomon  in  all  his  erlorv 
was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these."  There  often  is  a  solace 
in  the  wayside  flower,  if  we  will  but  stop  and  gather  it. 

From  this  place  my  father  again  moved  about  three  miles 
southeast,  into  a  small  log-house  near  Green's  sawmill,  and 
about  four  miles  east  of  the  village  of  Alps. 

As  before  observed,  my  time  was  mostly  occupied  in 
supporting  the  family  by  begging.  It  was  very  disagree- 
able and  discouraging  work,  for,  while  people  were  kind  at 
first  and  disposed  to  give  liberally,  yet,  by  my  oft-repeated 
visits,  they  became  tired  of  me.  This  made  it  all  the  harder 
for  me,  for  I  was  forced  to  do  this  unwelcome  task.  Aside 
from  the  long  mountain  journeys,  and  the  frowns  of  a  father 
whom  liquor  had  ruined,  upon  entering  a  house  I  would 
be  so  tired  that  while  the  good  lady  was  preparing  me 
something,  I  would  lean  against  the  door-casing  and  stand 
first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other.  Oh,  how  they 
would  ache.  But  then  there  was  no  rest  for  me.  Every 
bone  in  my  body  ached,  for  my  flesh  was  bruised  and 
pounded  at  home,  and  made  raw  and  sore  bv  the  pressure 


52  AUTOBIOGKAPHT. 

of  mj  burdens,  and  the  long  walks  and  the  facing  of  all 
kinds  of  weather.  Added  to  this,  I  was  frequently  abused 
by  merciless  teamsters,  who  would  often  lay  the  lash  of  their 
whip  over  my  head  and  shoulders  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  I  was  a  poor,  miserable  beggar,  and  "it  was  good 
enough  for  me,"  for  who  was  there  to  redress  my  grievances  ? 
I  could  only  weep,  and  the  hot,  scalding  tears  flowed  when 
only  God  beheld  the  suffering  boy. 

One  evening,  returning  from  one  of  my  tours  a  little 
earlier  than  usual,  mother  spread  the  table  and  we  sat  down 
to  eat.  Scarcely  had  we  done  so  when  father  entered  the 
house,  having  just  returned  from  Alps,  and,  without  note 
or  comment,  told  Peter  to  get  him  the  rope  which  mother 
used  for  a  clothes-line.  Mother  asked  him  what  he  was 
going  to  do  with  it.  He  made  no  reply.  She,  fearing  that 
all  was  not  right,  opened  wide  the  door  and  screamed  to  us 
children  to  flee  for  life.  Being  frightened  at  this  alarm 
we  all  rushed  out  of  the  room,  some  going  one  way  and 
some  another,  and  father,  as  oftentimes  before,  was  the  sole 
occupant  of  the  house,  while  mother  and  children  spent  a 
supperless  night  crouching  under  the  bushes,  wherever 
they  happened  to  light  in  their  terror  to  escape. 

At  another  time,  while  Peter  and  I  were  engaged  in 
bringing  firewood,  being  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
house,  we  unexpectedly  met  father  in  the  way.  Without 
ever  saying  a  word  or  giving  a  reason,  he  grasped  Peter  by 
the  collar  and  with  a  club  pounded  him  over  the  head  and 
shoulders  until  I  thought  the  child  was  dead,  for  he  had 
ceased  to  scream.  I  entreated  father  to  let  him  go,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  Such  treatment  made  us  very  much  afraid 
of  father. 

About  >[ew  Years  of  this  same  year  1  was  told  by  my 
father  to  go  to  Alps  for  a  jug  of  molasses,  he  charging 
me  that  I  should  not  fall  down  and  break  the  jug,  for  if  I 
did  he  would  shoot  me.     Of  course  I  promised  not  to  fall. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  53 

There  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  and  for  a  day  or 
two  it  had  rained  and  then  suddenly  frozen,  so  that  the 
whole  mountain-side  was  a  field  of  ice.  I  started  down 
the  steep  hill,  picking  my  way  very  carefully  lest  I  should 
fall.  But  I  had  scarcely  passed  out  of  sight  of  the  house 
when  T  slipped,  came  down  upon  the  back  of  my  head  with 
violence  enough  to  see  stars,  and,  oh,  the  poor  jug!  the 
whole  bottom  was  broken  out.  Hurt  as  I  was,  yet  I  was 
more  friorhtencd.  I  could  hear  mv  heart  beat  for  terror. 
What  could  I  do?  If  I  went  back  I  feared  father  would 
execute  his  threat.  The  jug  was  broken,  and  there  was  no 
way  for  me  to  replace  it  with  aiiother.  In  my  tremor  of 
f^ar  I  resolved  to  flee  for  my  life.  I  did  so.  I  pressed  on 
in  the  cold  of  winter  to  find  me  a  home  among  strangers 
for  the  first  time.  I  continued  my  journey  for  several  davs, 
when  I  commenced  asking  for  a  home.  For  eight  days  I 
looked  in  vain.  It  was  in  the  dead  of  winter  and  no  one 
wanted  a  boy.  Becoming  discouraged  and  depressed  in 
mind  by  my  fruitless  efibrts,  I  turned  back,  and  after  a  two 
weeks'  absence,  arrived  at  m}^  father's  house  with  drooping 
head  and  weeping  eyes,  for  I  feared  some  terrible  punish- 
ment awaited  me.  I  poured  forth  the  bitterness  of  mv  heart 
by  telling  the  events  just  as  they  took  place,  and  the  reason 
why  I  ran  away.  To  my  great  astonishment  I  did  not  even 
receive  a  whipping  for  this  attempt  at  running  away.  I 
think  father  feared  if  he  punished  me  for  this,  I  might  at 
some  future  day  make  another  and  a  more  successful  at- 
tempt, and  thus  deprive  him  of  my  valuable  services  as  a 
betjtrar. 

The  last  year  at  home  brought  no  relief.  My  mother  bv 
dint  of  liard  labor  had  earned  the  money  and  purchased  a 
cow,  and  cut  grass  enough  with  a  hand-sickle  in  the  glens 
of  the  mountain,  and  carried  it  home  on  lier  head  —  a  Ger- 
man mode  of  carrying — to  keep  the  cow  through  the  win- 
ter.    But  here  another  misfortune  set  in.     The  cow  had 


54:  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

hurt  lierself  in  some  way,  she  grew  worse,  and  finally  died. 
This  was  a  terrible  stroke  to  my  heart-broken  mother,  for 
the  cow  had  been  a  great  support.  Mother  and  I  set  out 
on  foot  to  represent  our  loss,  and  if  possible,  raise  money 
enough  to  purchase  another  cow.  We  traveled,  I  know 
not  how  many  miles,  but  little  help  did  we  get.  About  10 
o'clock  of  the  fourth  day,  near  the  margin  of  a  beautiful 
lake,  and  within  full  sight  of  the  village  of  Nassau,  weary 
and  discouraged,  she  sat  down  by  the  roadside  and  relieved 
her  aching  heart  in  a  flood  of  tears.  Oh,  I  did  feel  so  sorry 
for  her!  I  tried  to  encourage  her  all  I  could,  and  pointed 
toward  the  village,  and  told  her  I  would  enter  every  house 
alone  while  she  sat  quietly  under  a  shade  tree  to  rest. 
These  words  seemed  to  cheer  her,  and,  foot-sore  as  we  were, 
we  entered  Nassau,  and  I  canvassed  the  village  while  she 
rested.  But  we  became  discouraged,  having  raised  only 
about  six  dollars. 

At  another  time,  failing  to  find  lodging  in  a  barn,  and, 
as  the  weather  was  quite  cold,  I  asked  at  the  houses  for 
permission  to  stay  all  night.  But  no  one  would  keep  "the 
beggar  boy."  As  a  last  resort,  I  lay  down  by  the  side  of  a 
straw  stack.  The  evening  was  far  spent,  and  folks  were 
retiring.  Sleep,  I  could  not  for  the  cold.  I  pulled  straw 
and  tried  to  cover  myself  up,  but  the  cold  crept  through. 
All  night  I  sufiered.  I  would  get  up  and  run,  then  I  would 
rub  my  limbs,  then  lay  down  as  securely  as  possible.  Yet 
it  would  seem  that  I  could  not  survive.  What  a  fearful 
night  this  was.  The  slowly  moving  hours  at  length  crept 
on,  and  morning  appeared.  I  started  to  climb  over  the 
fence.  To  my  surprise,  I  could  not  get  my  feet  upon  the 
boards  without  great  exertion,  and  when  I  had  reached 
the  top,  I  fell  down  upon  the.  hard,  frozen  ground.  I  lay 
for  some  minutes  in  a  stupor,  and  at  length,  hearing  a  man 
in  a  barn  near  by,  I  shouted.  He  came  and  took  ine  up 
and  carried  me  to  his  house.     I  could  not  tell  what  was  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  55 

matter  with  me.  Tlicy  built  a  hot  fire  and  I  sat  up  so  close 
to  the  stove  that  I  burned  my  clothes,  yet  I  shook  like  a 
leaf  in  the  wind,  and  it  was  8  o'clock  before  I  became  com- 
posed.    Such  is  the  life  of  a  drunkard's  child. 

But  here  a  change  took  place.  Industry  was  the  charac- 
teristic trait  in  me  which  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
community,  and  quite  a  uumber  of  times  father  was  waited 
upon  by  various  persons  for  the  purpose  of  having  me 
bound  out  to  them.  At  length,  some  other  influence  than 
right  reason  prevailed  on  him  to  give  me  away,  which  he 
did  to  a  man  by  the  name  of  Richmond  Merry. 

Before  I  step  from  the  parental  roof,  it  is  not  improper 
for  me  to  add  that  two  brothers  had  been  born  to  me.  The 
family  now  consisted  of  five  children,  namely,  l-'eter,  Mary, 
Joseph,  Jacob,  and  the  writer.  Joseph  was  born  at  the  old 
steam  sawmill,  and  Jacob  in  the  house  near  Green's  saw- 
mill. 


56  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTEE  YII. 

The  Old  Folks — An  Eventful  Sabbath — Autumn  Days 
— Going  West — A  Terrible  Winter — Fleeing  for 
Life. 

Accordingly,  one  spring  morning  in  April,  1852,  1  bade 
good-by  to  kindred,  and  set  out  for  my  new  home.  On 
my  way  a  thousand  hopes  and  fears  flitted  thi'ough  my 
mind.  As  I  passed  along,  my  soul  was  refreshed  in  listen- 
ing to  the  carols  of  returning  birds.  Breathing  the  mild 
atmosphere  coming  from  the  sunny  southern  climes,  bask- 
ing in  the  clear  morning  sunlight,  admiring  the  winter- 
green  along  the  mountain  foot-path,  beholding  the  evergreen 
glades  on  either  side,  the  sparkling  lakelet  smiling  with  the 
flush  of  spring,  were  objects  that  beguiled  my  pensive 
mind.  The  home  to  which  I  was  going  was  humble,  lo- 
cated at  the  foot  of  Sugar  Hill,  West  Steventown,  ISl.  Y. 
The  people  with  whom  I  was  going  to  live  were  aged,  poor, 
ignorant  and  irreligious — both  using  profane  language,  and 
the  man  drank  to  excess.  My  industry  and  good  conduct, 
together  with  an  inborn  disposition  toward  honesty,  did 
not  fail  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  old  folks,  who  had  a 
peculiar  way  of  telling  everybody  what  a  good  boy  they 
had.  Soon  the  odium  of  the  ^'beggar  boy"  passed  away. 
As  the  old  lady  wore  the  crown  and  swayed  the  scepter,  I 
was  only  responsible  to  her  for  my  conduct,  though  she,  I 
confess,  was  not  always  easy  to  please,  for  she  often  in- 
dulged in  violent  spells  of  anger. 

Sabbaths  were  little  regarded,  I  frequently  having  to 
work  on  that  day. 


PER80NAI.    RECOLLECTIONS.  57 

Being  deprived  of  scIidoI  ])rivilef^es.  J  learned  u\y  lessons 
by  experience,  as  the  foUowinn^  will  illufitnite:  One  snap- 
ping cold  day  in  winter,  while  harnessing  our  old  horse, 
following  my  instructions,  I  breathed  on  the  bit  to  draw 
out  the  frost.  Curious  to  know  how  I  had  succeeded,  I 
touched  my  tongue  to  it.  No  sooner  done  than  it  stuck  to 
the  bit.  There  was  no  time  to  ask  what  must  be  done.  I 
gave  it  a  jerk,  and  out  Ciime  the  bit  all  covered  with  my 
tongue.  My  mouth  was  sore  for  many  days.  But  then  I 
had  no  disposition  to  try  the  bit  that  way  again. 

The  seasons  of  the  swiftly  passing  years  came  and  went.  I 
never  wearied  in  beholding  the  springing  grass,  bursting 
buds, unfolding  flowers,  and  singing  birds.  How  delicious  to 
breathe  the  pure  mountain  air!  With  what  delight  I  climb- 
ed the  rumored  hills  from  whose  summits  I  beheld  the  IIud-» 
son  on  whose  bosom  the  rays  of  the  sun  sparkled  like  orient 
gems.  I  could  see  Albany  with  its  palace  walls  setting 
against  the  western  sky.  On  the  east  rose  the  lofty  peaks 
of  the  Green  Mountains;  toward  the  north  lay  spread  out 
dense  forests,  covering  thousands  of  acres  with  their  lofty 
hemlocks  and  pines.  To  the  southwest  the  valley  of  the 
Hudson  with  its  fertile  fields,  lovely  hamlets,  half-secluded 
farm-houses  and  picturesque  scenery,  presented  a  picture 
rare  and  beautiful.  Hi  short,  from  these  heights  I  beheld, 
in  miniature,  the  lovely  reahns  and  exalted  kingdoms  ot 
the  world. 

Living  with  such  people,  it  must  not  be  thought  strange 
if  I  appropriated  all  Sabbaths,  on  which  1  did  not  have  to 
work,  in  seeking;  such  diversions  as  best  suited  mv  mind. 
If  springtime,  I  rambled  through  the  glens  and  mountain 
paths  in  pursuit  of  flowers,  or,  reclining  under  some  shade 
tree,  the  caroling  of  birds  beguiled  the  sunny  hours  away. 
If  summer,  then  picking  berries,  which  everywhere  grew 
in  abundance,  was  the  all-absorbing  j)astime.  H*  autumn, 
then  the  {ratherinc:  of  Tnit>  was  the  climax  of  all. 


58  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Yery  frequently  I  had  to  go  to  Alps,  the  nearest  village, 
after  liquor  for  the  old  man.  One  Sabbath  a  neighbor 
wanted  me  to  go  after  some  for  him.  .  IN^ow  he  was  a  very 
doubtful  paymaster,  and  I  did  not  like  to  trust  him.  How- 
ever, I  went,  thinking  on  the  way  how  I  should  manage  to 
get  my  pay.  Returning,  I  concluded  to  hide  the  jug 
under  some  bushes  near  the  house.  He  looked  surprised 
at  seeing  me  without  the  jug  and  asked  what  had  become 
of  it.  I  told  him  I  had  hid  it  near  by,  and  would  go  after 
it  upon  receiving  my  pay.  He  was  nonplused,  and,  I  sup- 
pose, pretty  "dry,"  and  he  came  down  with  the  money. 

But  the  autumn  was  the  most  pleasing  of  all  the  year, 
for  then  the  gi'oves  were  filled  with  nuts,  and  such  pastime 
as  I  enjoyed  in  gathering  them  for  winter. 

While  liWng  with  these  aged  people,  I  formed  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Warren  and  Addie  Wait,  whose  mother, 
Mrs.  L.  H.  Wait  (now  Mrs.  L.  H.  Lansing),  I  found  to  be 
a  most  excellent  woman.  Quite  a  number  of  Sabbaths  I 
enticed  them  to  go  with  me  and  gather  flowers  in  the 
glens.  It  did  not  please  Mrs.  Wait.  So  the  next  Sunday 
she  asked  me  if  I  did  not  know  it  was  wrong  to  break 
the  Sabbath.  I  told  her  I  did  not  know  it  was.  She  said 
she  wished  I  would  go  to  Sabbath-school  with  Warren 
and  Addie,  instead  of  going  off  into  the  woods.  "Sab- 
bath-school," I  repeated,  wondering  what  that  could  be, 
for  I  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  She  then  explained 
it  to  me.  Still,  being  somewhat  doubtful,  I  asked  her  if 
she  thought  they  would  take  me,  for  I  had  in  mind  the  fact 
that  everybody  knew  me  as  the  beggar  boy,  and  it  was  im- 
pressed upon  my  mind  that  everybody  despised  me.  She 
assured  me  that  they  would  be  glad  to  have  me  come.  ^'Glad 
to  have  me  come,"  I  repeated  in  great  Avonder,  and  at  once 
promised  her  I  would  go. 

Upon  this  [  hastened  home  in  high  glee,  conjecturing  as 
to  what  a  Sabbath-school  could  be.     At  the  appointed  hour 


TEKSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  59 

the  following  Sabbath  I  was  at  the  church.  I  stood  on 
the  steps,  for  tlu\t  was  as  far  as  I  dared  go,  waiting  fur  Mrs. 
AVait.  It  required  some  nerve  to  stand  there  as  the  people 
passed  in.  The  thought  that  all  knew  me  as  the  little  beg- 
gar cut  my  feelings  to  the  quick.  It  was  only  my  promise 
that  held  me  there  to  the  gaze  of  the  multitude.  For, 
should  I  go  away,  the  good  lady,  who  had  not  yet  arrived, 
would  think  that  I  had  not  been  there,  and  my  promise 
would  be  broken.  At  length  she  came,  complimented  me 
for  my  promptness,  and  passed  in. 

Hope  again  gave  place  to  fear.  I  thought  that  I  was 
not  worthy  to  be  a  member  of  the  school,  perhaps  I  was 
too  wicked,  and  was  just  in  the  act  of  turning  away,  when 
I  felt  a  gentle  touch  on  my  shoulders.  Upon  looking 
around,  I  saw  the  superintendent,  who,  with  a  pleasing 
smile,  invited  me  in.  With  downcast  eyes  I  followed  the 
man  up  the  aisle  to  a  teacher,  who  received  me  kindly. 
The  teacher  gave  me  a  book.  I  opened  it,  when,  to  my  as- 
tonishment, I  saw  some  beautiful  pictures!  He  tried  to 
have  me  say  the  letters  after  him.  But  it  was  of  no  use  as 
long  as  there  remained  a  picture  unseen.  Nor  was  I  sat- 
isfied with  a  hasty  look,  but  I  examined  them  minutely. 
The  teacher  seeing  how  absorbed  I  was,  let  me  satisfy  my 
curiosity,  and  finally  told  me  he  would  give  me  the  book 
on  condition  that  I  learned  the  letters  which  he  showed 
me.  What  a  gift!  A  man  elected  to  the  presidency  of  the 
United  States  could  have  felt  no  deeper  satisfaction  over 
his  success  than  I  did  over  the  anticipated  possession  of 
that  book.  After  school  I  went  home  in  company  with 
Mrs.  Wait  and  her  children,  Addie  and  Warren.  Of  course 
I  was  proud  to  show  her  my  book,  and  to  relate  what  the 
teacher  had  said  to  me.  She  smiled  at  my  artless  and 
childish  simplicity,  and  encouraged  my  etibrts.  As  I  lived 
about  a  mile  farther  toward  the  mountains  than  Mrs.  Wait, 
and  as  the  summer's  sun  was  already  going  toward  the 


60  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

West,  I  hastened  home  in  high  glee,  resolved  to  learn  the 
letters  and  obtain  the  book. 

But  then,  when  I  arrived  there,  and  the  book  was  shown, 
there  was  an  nnlooked-for  obstacle  in  the  way.  The  old 
lady  did  not  like  the  idea  of  seeing  books  in  my  hands,  and 
frowned  on  me,  remarking  that  "  larnin'  alwus"  spil'd 
people,"  and  if  I  was  "goin'  to  larn"  I  would  be  good  for 
nothing.  I  felt  disappointed,  for  I  knew  if  she  opposed 
me  I  might  as  well  give  up,  as  she  was  very  set  in  her  ways. 
I  wanted  to  keep  the  book  so  much  that  I  entreated  her  to 
put  me  on  trial  for  one  week.     She  reluctantly  consented. 

Knowing  her  changeableness,  I  did  not  dare  to  study  in 
her  presence,  so  I  went  away  by  myself,  and  after  another 
good  look  at  the  pictures,  studied  the  shape  of  every  letter 
so  thoroughly  that  their  forms  were  stamped  on  my  mind. 
Durino^  the  week  while  at  work  with  the  old  man.  I  would 
describe  their  shape  to  him,  who  then  would  tell  me  their 
names.  Thus  I  learned  all  the  letters  before  the  week  was 
up,  and  did  as  much  work  as  usual,  for  I  wanted  to  con- 
vince the  old  lady  that  "larnin'  "  did  not  spoil  me;  indeed 
she  did  not  even  know  that  I  had  studied  at  all. 

The  following  Sabbath  was  one  of  those  bright  June 
mornings  when  all  nature  stands  dressed  in  its  most  lovely 
garments,  and  the  birds  in  the  calmness  .of  the  morning 
sing  as  if  their  little  throats  would  burst,  and  the  chime  of 
the  church  bell,  wafted  along  the  hillsides  and  through  the 
valleys,  produced  a  holy  and  heavenly  influence  on  my 
mind.  While  wrapt  in  my  thoughts  amid  these  surround- 
ings, I  passed  the  first  neighbor's,  Mr.  Weatherby- s.  Mrs. 
Weatherby,  who  has  now  gone  to  her  reward,  stood  in  the 
doorway  and  asked  me  about  those  letters.  I  told  her  they 
were  all  learned.  She  thought  it  was  impossible,  for  she 
knew  I  had  to  work  hard,  early  and  late.  To  relieve  her 
mind,  I  repeated  them  to  her  satisfaction  and  approval. 
She  bade  me  become  a  man.     At  such  good  words  I  felt 


PERSONAL    KECOLLKCTION8.  61 

manly  and  passed  on.  I  stopped  at  Mr>.  Wail's,  where  tlie 
same  questions  were  asked  and  tlio  hame  answers  given. 
In  company  we  went  to  church  and  the  Sabbath-school. 
The  alphabet  was  promptly  recited,  to  the  approval  and 
satisfaction  of  the  teacher.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  I 
won  and  obUiined  the  book.  Thus,  dear  reader,  your  hum- 
ble editor  learned  his  letters  at  the  a<^c  of  twelve. 

To  the  Sabbath-school  is  he  indebted  i\>T  his  first  steps 
in  learnin":.  But  even  here  I  had  obstacles  to  overcome. 
Some  Sabbaths  I  had  to  stay  at  home  and  work.  To  over- 
come this  ditticulty,  I  asked  the  old  people  to  give  me  a 
stint  for  seven  days.  When  this  could  be  done,  they  gave 
it  me,  and  then  I  would  work  with  added  eneri'v  to  accom- 
plisb  in  six  days  what  was  given  me  fur  seven.  I>ut  they 
could  not  always  give  me  a  task,  hence  the  old  folks  would 
make  me  work  so  late  on  the  Sabbath  that  I  had  to  run 
most  of  the  three  miles  to  get  to  school  in  time.  The 
session  was  in  the  afternoon  at  two  o'clock.  Under  these 
difficulties  I  attended  Sabbath-school  for  about  three 
months.  And  they  were  the  happiest  three  months  of  my 
mountain  life.  Durincr  this  time  I  became  known 
throughout  the  whole  parish  for  my  eagerness  to  learn,  and 
many  sympathized  with  me,  and  one  man  even  offered  to 
take  me  and  send  me  to  school,  if  I  would  come  and  live 
with  him.  But  this  offer  I  did  not  dare  to  accept  for  fear 
my  father  would  take  me  home,  and  I  preferred  living  with 
the  old  people  to  returning  to  a  life  of  suffering;  though 
candor  cxjmpels  me  to  confess  that  my  apprenticed  home 
w^as  little  better  than  the  parental  roof.  At  the  Sabbath- 
school  a  good  lady  presented  me  with  a  beautiful  copy  of 
the  Bible.  At  first  I  declined  to  take  it,  assuring  her  I 
never  would  be  able  to  read  it.  I  did  not  think  that  I 
would  ever  be  able  to  read  like  the  educated  pt'ople.  But 
she  prevailed  upon  me  to  take  it,  assuring  me  tliat  I  would 
live  to  see  the  time  when   I  would  be  able   to  read  from 


62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

that  Bible.  I  was  astonished  at  her  remark,  wondering  if 
it  were  possible  for  me  to  evca*  acquire  so  much  knowledge, 
and,  kindly  thanking  her,  I  accepted  the  book. 

This  put  a  new  idea  into  my  mind  and  I  resolved  to 
keep  the  Bible  and  learn  to  read  it.  I  treasured  these  two 
books  as  the  most  sacred  gifts  of  my  life,  but,  I  am  sorry 
to  add,  they  were  both  stolen  from  me  some  years  later. 

I  became  very  much  attached  to  the  Sabbath- school, 
and  during  my  stay  in  it,  learned  to  read  a  little  in  the 
book  given  me  by  my  teacher.  All  these  things  took 
place  at  the  white  meeting-house  in  TVest  Steventown, 
!N^.  Y.  The  Rev.  Isaiah  B.  Coleman  was  pastor  of  the 
church,  and,  I  will  here  add,  is  pastor  yet,  and  doubt- 
less, as  his  eyes  fall  on  this  narrative,  will  remember 
the  little  Sabbath-school  boy  of  long  ago.  Oh  !  how  I 
prized  this  opportunity  to  learn,  but  even  this  privilege 
was  of  short  duration,  for  in  the  autumn,  the  old  folks 
moved  to   Albany,  Green  county,  Wisconsin. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  interesting  to  the  reader  to  know 
what  occupation  I  followed  while  living  with  the  old 
folks  in  the  mountains.  Well,  during  the  early  part  of 
the  season,  I  helped  the  old  lady  gather  herbs,  which 
she  took  to  the  Xew  Lebanon  Shakers  and  sold.  The 
autumns  were  spent  in  burning  coal,  and  the  winters 
in  making  shingles.  But  of  all  dreads,  was  the  coal- 
burning  season,  for  it  became  my  duty  to  act  as  watch 
part  of  the  night.  The  old  gentleman  would  usually 
stay  the  fore  part.  Upon  his  arrival  at  home  he  would 
call  me  up  about  midnight,  and  with  lantern  in  hand, 
I  would  start  off  over  the  lonely  mountain  path  to  the 
coal-pit.  I  confess  I  dreaded  to  go  out  at  that  hour 
of  the  night,  when  ghosts  in  their  frightful  forms 
walked  the  earth,  and  every  bush  and  stump  appeared 
one  to  me.  For  so  many  ghost  stories  had  been  related 
in  my  hearing,  that  I  really  believed  in  their  existence. 


TERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  63 

Besides,  I  had  to  ])ass  through  a  forest  ut"  dense  sap- 
lings— the  iihode  of  snakes,  frogs  and  toads,  and  not  un- 
frcquently  was  friglitened  out  of  my  wits  by  ste})ping  on 
their  coUl,  slimy  backs  with  my  bare  feet.  And  to  pass 
tlie  after  ])art  of  the  night  in  the  mountain  all  alone,  I 
confess  took  considerable  nerve.  But  all  this  was  a  thou- 
sand times  better  than  to  beg  from  door  to  door.  For  the 
benefit  of  the  young  reader  I  would  here  say,  in  regard  to 
ghosts,  that,  having  carefully  investigated  the  subject,  I  am 
prepared  to  affiini  that  no  such  thing  as  a  ghost  exists. 
Most,  if  not  all,  fancied  ghosts,  are  optical  delusions.  If 
any  one  is  curious  to  trace  this  subject  still  farther,  I  would 
refer  him  to  Dick,  who  explains  and  illustrates  it  to  the 
satisfaction  of  every  mind. 

All  of  this  summer  the  old  people  had  been  receiving 
frequent  letters  from  a  married  daughter  in  the  "West,  and 
they  were  making  preparations  to  move  "West.  I  had 
heard  them  say  so  much  about  it,  that  I  had  painted  in 
my  mind  a  country  second  to  the  Eden  of  old.  I  wanted 
to  see  such  a  country — a  country  in  such  contrast  with  ray 
mountain  home,  that  not  even  a  stone  could  be  obtained  to 
throw  at  the  birds  !  For  the  benefit  of  my  eastern  read- 
ers, I  will  add  that  this  is  literally  true  gf  many  sections  of 
Illinois,  "Wisconsin  and  Iowa.  Revolving  these  things  in 
my  mind,  I  asked  the  old  gentleman  one  day,  if  he  would 
let  me  go  with  him.  To  my  surprise  he  readily  consented. 
The  next  thing  in  the  way  was  to  get  the  consent  of  my 
father.  So  I  went  to  see  him  about  it.  After  a  lone:  con- 
versation,  he  asked  me  if  I  wanted  to  go  so  far  from  home. 
I  answered  in  the  affirmative.  He  was  silent  for  some 
minutes,  doubtless  revolving  in  his  mind  whether  it  was 
best  to  let  me  go,  but  he  gave  his  permission.  The  ap- 
pointed day  was  approaching.  Upon  the  morning  of  our 
departure,  I  made  mother  a  visit.  She  felt  very  sad.  I 
told  her  I  would  be  a  good  boy.     And  then  all  her  acts  of 


64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

kindness  flashed  into  my  mind.  How  loving  slie  had  been, 
how  often  she  had  shielded  me.  When  I  came  home  from 
my  long  trips  in  begging,  half  frozen,  tired  and.  hungry, 
how  she  used  to  cheer  my  aching  heart  by  kind,  words. 
Oh,  she  was  such  a  good,  mother  !  and  now,  I  am  leaving 
her  to  go  far  away.  These  thoughts  caused  me  to 
almost  repent  of  my  purpose.  Yet  the  memory  of  the 
past  was  bitter.  With  this  before  my  mind,  and  yet 
with  many  regrets,  I  left  the  family  group  standing  in 
the  door-way  of  our  humble  mountain  home  weeping. 
For  a  moment  I  faltered.  But  it  seemed,  best  I  should 
go.  The  past  was  a  sad  reality,  the  present  rife  with 
anxiety,  with  hopes  and  fears,  the  future  shrouded  with 
a  vail  impenetrable.  I  tried  to  reconcile  myself  as  best 
1  could.  Though  I  regretted  to  give  up  my  mother, 
sister  and  brothers,  yet  the  thought  of  being  placed 
beyond  the  reach  of  father,  whom  I  had  learned  to  fear^ 
was  a  great  consolation.  With  hopes  for  better  days,  I 
turned  my  face  westward,  in  fond  expectation  that  upon 
the  fertile  plains  beyond  the  mountains,  industry  would 
soon  secure  me  a  happy  home. 

I  should  here  add  that  Peter  had  been  given  away  in 
the  same  manner  that  I  had  been,  and  hence  he  was 
not  at  home  at  the  time  I  took  my  departure,  but  I 
went  to  his  home  to  bid  him  good-by.  There  were 
mutual  regrets  and  sadness  between  us  at  the  thought 
of  having  me  go  so  far  away  where  we  could  not  see 
each  other,  for  we  loved  each  other  as  a  common  sorrow 
only  could  unite  two  hearts.  But  I  told  him  that  father's 
cruelty  was  the  only  reason  why  I  took  this  step.  He 
sighed  and  said  :  "  Oh,  could  I  only  go  with  you  I"  I 
spent  a  number  of  hours  with  him,  then  we  parted,  both 
weeping. 

I  hastened  forward  to  the  village  of  Alps,  where  I  joined 
the  old  people,  for  I  had  come  another  road.     Here  we  spent 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  66 

the  first  night  on  onr  journey.  As  the  twilight  hhiit  uut 
the  light  of  day,  and  the  towering  mountain  over  against 
the  village  cast  a  somber  shade  upon  the  opposite  hillside, 
it  was  a  lit  emblem  of  my  own  sad  heart,  for,  in  more  re- 
spects than  one,  it  had  been  a  remarkable  day.  I  had  left 
all  that  was  dear  to  my  own  heart  weeping  for  me,  and  I 
wept  for  them.  But  such  are  some  of  tlie  pangs  of  sorrow 
in  a  home  made  desolate  bv  alcohol. 

The  following  morning  we  started  about  four  o'clock  for 
Troy.  As  we  were  passing  along  the  dusky  way — for  it 
was  in  the  month  of  October — the  grey  light  of  early  morn- 
ing fiided  out,  and  the  full  flush  of  the  crimsoned  eastern 
sky  lighted  up  the  face  of  nature,  and  as  we  passed  over  a 
hill,  the  sun,  full  orbed,  flashed  and  sparkled  his  golden 
beams  over  the  mountain  summit,  and  then,  as  I  looked 
t<^ward  the  glories  of  approacliiiig  day,  I  thought  of  the 
dear  ones  at  home,  and  as  the  mountaiu  faded  from  mv 
view,  I  wept,  and  longed  to  turn  back.  But  this  could  not 
be. 

While  thus  pensive  and  absorbed  witli  my  thoughts,  we 
had,  unheeded  by  me,  passed  through  Sand  Lake,  and  were 
now  nearing:  Alba,  and  shortlv  arrived  in  Trov. 

Here  new  si{i:hts  and  scenes  diverted  mv  thoufjhts.  I 
looked  upon  the  beauties  of  this  city  w^ith  admiration.  At 
the  depot  all  was  excitement.  Bells  were  ringing,  whistles 
were  blowing,  engines  moving,  trains  coming  and  going, 
baggage  and  express  wagons  rolling  over  the  pavements. 
All  these  things  to  a  green  mountain  boy,  whose  eyes  and 
ears,  and  perhaps  mouth,  were  wide  open,  were  strange  and 
surprising. 

At  lenjrth  we  took  our  seats  in  the  cars.  I  sat  bv  a  win- 
dow  looking  out  upon  another  train  which  happened  to 
move  out  of  the  depot  first.  I  surely  thought  it  was  our 
train  that  moved.  But  then  I  wjus  green,  for  I  did  not  un 
derstand  the  philosophy  of  it.  After  bustling  about  of 
5 


66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

porters,  checking  of  baggage,  ringing  of  engine  bell,  es- 
caping of  steam,  a  general  scramble  of  passengers,  tbe  train 
moved  out  of  the  depot,  slowly  winding  its  serpentine  way 
through  the  city,  over  bridges,  under  streets  and  over  cross- 
ings, increasing  in  speed  as  it  went,  until  at  length  it  rushed 
with  reckless  force  through  cuts,  over  embankments,  and 
past  farm-houses,  as  if  anxious  to  carry  me  forever  beyond 
the  reach  of  a  tyrant  hand. 

As  the  iron  horse  was  careering  over  the  track  of  steel, 
my  mind  prognosticated  of  the  future.  In  the  far  West  I 
was  going  to  enjoy  a  happy  home,  be  a  good  boy  who  might 
honor  my  mother;  would  never,  no  never  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor,  but  on  the  other  hand,  would  be  industrious,  grow 
up  a  thrifty  man,  earn  the  means  with  which  to  purchase 
a  farm,  and  in  the  strength  of  early  manhood  return  to 
make  glad  a  mother's  heart  as  she  looked  upon  the  noble 
form  of  her  firstborn.  These  were  some  of  the  thoughts 
that  passed  through  my  mind. 

Buffalo  was  reached  at  length,  where  we  took  a  steamer 
for  Monroe  City.  "  The  Western  World  "  was  the  name 
of  the  boat  upon  which  we  took  passage,  and  its  name  was 
very  suggestive  to  me,  for  was  I  not  going  to  that  new, 
strange  and  wonderful  world? 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  rattle  of  trucks  ceased, 
the  ceaseless  tread  upon  the  wharf  became  subdued,  the  bell 
rang,  orders  were  given  from  the  deck  of  the  pilot-house, 
the  flag  which  had  floated  in  the  breeze  was  hauled  in,  and 
the  ponderous  wheels  struggled  with  the  elements,  and 
away  over  the  lake  moved  the  great  boat. 

At  Monroe  City  we  took  the  cars  for  Chicago.  At  a  little 
station  beyond  Cold  Water  the  engine  broke  down,  and 
we  were  detained  for  some  time.  But  another  took  the 
place  of  the  disabled  one,  and  we  arrived  in  Chicago  with- 
out further  trouble.  Here  we  took  another  steamer  for 
Milwaukee,  where  we  again  took  the  cars  for  Janesville, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  67 

and  from  thence,  twenty-two  miles  by  team,  to  Albany, 
Green  Co.,  Wis.,  the  end  of  our  journey.  After  leaving 
Janesville,  I  for  the  first  time  saw  prairies,  and  I  can  only 
describe  them  as  an  ocean  of  land  bounded  on  all  sides  by 
the  horizon,  and  dotted  here  and  there  by  dwelling-houses. 
The  whole  was  a  sight  beautiful  to  behold,  as  these  prairies 
stretched  away  in  every  direction  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see.  Here,  too,  I  saw  vast  fields  of  corn,  and  while  trying 
to  take  in  the  vastness  of  one  of  these  fields,  a  farmer  passed 
us  loaded  with  golden  ears  of  corn.  One  ear  happened 
to  drop  from  his  wagon.  1  jumped  out  and  picked  it  up.  OhI 
what  a  large  ear.  Twenty-two  rows  upon  it,  and  oh,  what 
kernels!  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  depth.  Down  East  eight 
rows  was  the  average;  but  here  was  one  of  twent^'-two,  whose 
cob  was  larger  than  the  whole  car  down  in  New  York 
State.     This  must  be  a  wonderful  country,  I  thought. 

Stopping  for  the  night  at  Magnolia,  we  arrived  next  day 
about  noon  in  the  beautiful  village  of  Albany.  Mr.  Pres- 
ton's residence  was  about  one  and  a  half  miles  southwest  of 
the  village.  lie  lived  on  the  Campbell  fiirm.  The  road,  part 
of  the  way  lay  through  a  "bur-oak  opening,"  skirted  on 
the  west  by  a  prairie.  It  was  one  of  those  October  days 
when  all  nature  glows  in  the  mellow  sunlight,  the  fields 
look  as  if  taking  on  their  garments  for  winter,  and  the 
groves  are  dressed  in  crimson  foliage.  It  was  such  a  day 
as  this  upon  which  w^e  arrived  at  Mr.  Preston's. 

We  were  very  kindly  received.  A  sumptuous  feast 
had  been  prepared  against  our  coming,  and  the  tables 
groaned  under  their  loads  of  the  best  eatables  the  West 
could  give.  With  such  a  reception,  and  with  the  material 
evidences  of  afiluence  on  every  hand,  I  surely  thought  I 
would  be  very  happy. 

Mr.  Preston's  family  consisted  of  himself,  his  wife,  one 
daughter,  and  three  hired  men.  The  house  was  located 
upon  the  bank  of  a  small  stream  which  emptied  into  Sugar 


68  APTOBIOGRAPHY. 

river;  the  farm  was  large,  tlie  yard  filled  with  cattle,  the 
bam  with  three  spans  of  horses,  and  in  the  pasture  were 
over  a  thousand  sheep.  Surely,  I  thought,  in  such  a  home 
as  this,  the  old  people  would  pass  down  the  valley  of  old 
age  in  peace  and  happiness,  and  I  should  have  such  a  home 
as  I  had  not  enjoyed  since  I  left  the  Rhine. 

Nancy — for  that  was  the  name  of  the  daughter — took 
pleasure  in  showing  me  around.  We  went  out  into  the 
fields,  rambled  through  the  groves,  beside  the  river,  and 
over  the  prairies.  She  also  knew  the  names  of  most  of 
the  wild  birds,  among  which  were  prairie  chickens,  quails, 
wild  geese,  cranes,  snipes,  ducks,  and  many  smaller  ones, 
and  there  were  such  hosts  of  them  in  the  fields  and  on  the 
river. 

Just  as  I  began  to  get  fairly  acquainted  witli  my  new 
home,  there  came  an  unanticipated  and  unexpected  change, 
for  it  turned  out  that  the  old  folks  gave  what  little  of  this 
world's  goods  they  had — counting  me  in  as  one  of  the 
articles — to  Mr.  Preston,  his  son-in-law.  It  was  now  late 
in  the  antumn,  and  the  leaves,  yellow  and  sere,  lay  strewn 
over  the  ground,  while  the  northern  blasts  sighed  through 
the  barren  branches  a  sad,  mournful  requiem.  For  a  few 
months  I  was  kindly  treated,  but  soon  the  cords  of  cruelty 
were  fastened  about  me,  and  my  items  of  work  each  day, 
were  these:  I  had  to  take  care  of  1000  sheep,  12  head  of 
cattle,  and  to  cut  wood  enough  to  supply  two  stoves. 
Mornings  I  had  to  be  out  before  daylight,  and  as  I 
mounted  the  hay-stacks,  and  the  keen  prairie  winds  would 
go  through  my  thin  clothes,  I  often  thought  1  should  per- 
ish before  accomplishing  my  task.  Moreover,  the  old  lady 
had  such  a  mean  disposition  that  no  one  could  live  in 
peace  with  her,  and  the  old  man  disagreeing  with  the  son- 
in-law,  the  son-in-law  quarreling  with  the  old  folks,  anarchy 
and  contention  filled  up  the  unhappy  hours.  They  being 
so  hateful  to  each  other,  it  was  not  strange  that  I  should 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  69 

be  abused.  Through  exposure  to  wind  and  rain  I  was 
taken  sick,  which  j^roduced  still  more  ill-will,  for  Preston 
whined  and  swore  that  he  did  not  thank  the  old  folks  tor 
bringing  a  boy  to  be  sick  at  his  expense,  and  to  mitigate 
his  wrath,  I  was  neglected  on  a  bed  of  suffering. 

Scarcely  was  I  able  to  leave  the  sick-room  before  I  had 
to  resume  my  work  again.  Mornings,  long  before  day- 
light, I  had  to  climb  the  hay-stacks,  and  as  the  northern 
winds  swept  over  the  wild  prairies,  they  would  almost  lift 
me  from  the  stacks.  Had  they  given  me  comfortable 
clothing,  my  task  would  have  been  much  easier,  but  with 
thin  clothing  and  no  mittens — for  they  were  too  cruel  to 
provide  me  with  any — my  hands  would  get  so  cold  that  I 
could  scarcely  hold  the  fork,  and  several  times  I  froze  my 
hands,  feet,  and  other  parts  of  my  body.  Aside  from  all 
this,  the  man  Preston  was  very  fractious,  and  liis  treat- 
ment most  heartless.  If  I  did  anvthino^  wrong:,  he  abused 
me;  if  I  did  well,  he  abused  me,  so  there  was  no  encour- 
agement to  please  him.  Oh,  how  my  heart  would  ache 
and  sigh  for  relief  I  But  I  was  a  pour  child,  over  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  home  and  friends,  alone  in  the  world  and 
given  over  to  the  caprice  of  heartless  and  godless  men. 
Thus  I  toiled  and  suffered  all  winter,  with  no  one  to  help 
or  pity.     But  the  seasons  do  not  last  always. 

Rosy-footed  spring,  with  its  brightly-beaming  smiles 
and  soft,  balmy  air,  at  length  drove  the  stern  monarch 
Winter  to  the  Xorth.  And  I  earnestly  hoped  my  tasks 
would  become  more  endurable.  But  in  this  I  was  disap- 
pointed, for  they  increased  my  burdens. 

One  day  I  was  sent  to  find  the  sheep.  I  had  failed  in 
finding  them,  though  I  had  faithfully  and  diligently  looked 
for  them,  and  it  was  quite  late  in  the  evening  when  I 
returned  and  reported  myself.  Preston  was  so  vexed  at 
this,  that  he  said  he  would  whip  me*' within  :iii  inch  of 
my  life,"  if  I  did  not  go  and   find  them  before  I   went  to 


oec..     _  ~ .". r  : '  ^ -_. ' f  ■_ 7 '       ^  " "   -        ",       "  . m. 

snei.  T : :  .:- :  -  ^  ^       ^  ;::.::  ^  ;  s  and 

ffiftc  ::.  ''^-^  -    "^      • :     '.  .r  light 

<sf  i;.7        _        _     ^  :„  ^:    :r_^  \  _.    .    .  ^  -^-^p, 

■Jjn— f-f  -    :  :: '  r :  .:  ^-:  :  v'    _-7  .:_  7.:_-i"       _         .  , .  ^  _.  .    i,   :-ie 
":^-.  :  T^    i:  :      .'-        ■       :^  ."    -      ^    :  r^     Term  an  old  log 
_    -"  -  ".;;;-         In  the   mom- 

:ir  I  :    ■  "  -■■  :""r:   Y:    J  ^a^ndered, 

_  -■  l:  £       ~  7        :   ,  :.   r      ,        :  i'uiir  o'cxock  in  the 

L.:-.;-:-:. :  :  :.    .'  _    jv   : '.  ,^:  "  ].:   :: /  Here   T   -^   'Z'ed 

11  .':..-:     T  "     _    "    ^  ,;   '  ^~hT!e  'eixiv^i^   a.  lew 

^":'~  ^-  /iL.:--  i_^  I  "^,s  and  where  I 

'-"^wt-     I  tboM  :     -  -       ~  :.         -_  '.  Wi?..  and  was 

likoiiie.     I     ^  ~  ere  dead 

7.:^--:  Ir .  ^  -'"    ::.-^    '.  ^  -     -       ""  '    :       "    :    :  f  my 

t:    i:  :-  :i  :^-7       :;  .  -        .  shall 

:  :  i:"  "    "t  -"  r    :    t:'  -         -      _  ^  :  for  a 

:..:___-:  _'.„..:      -  ^  .._.^  ;.:    i--^   T^-ing  to 

:   .      ~    :.   ;   ^     I  r.^  5T!eh  pinrpoise-     As 

I  ~ ,  .  -      : "  -  ih,  if  I  had  to 

".. -T  .         -'"._-    "_^-  :.e  I  now  have, 

I  :    i :  ::    -     t  '  _.  '       _:--'?•   will 

Ito:  .:.  "_  -  _  -      :        ''--'___■    r" -;l:-    '  ist   as 

:    --  ■      •:  "       T    ^         _:     ■        ■  _-    :    "      r      "   "     -         -rative 

-  :  "       -       r     "  ..:    ahove 

-  "    :  "    -  :    .    mature 

.     -    '    _       .        -  "         ::    _  iin    truth,  I 

--:  1:1    -as  only  a  poor, 

1     _.   .7--  -  .  "    T       _      ^^S'Of  t:-  :;:.   ment- 

"^      ^  _    '  -"'  e  fitore-^eeper,  Ms 

--  -_  ...  ^-TrT,    ,.-,^  appear- 

"  aem..       I 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  7l 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Bitten  by  a   Rattlesnakk — At  the  Gate  of  Death — 
Driven  into  the    Harvest-field — Fainting — Turned 

OUT  UPON  THE  WoRLD — A  DrOVER TaKEN  WITH  FeVER 

AND  Ague — Left  in  a  Strange  City  Alone. 

I  found  them  to  be  most  excellent  people.  And  the  new 
home  was  such  a  contrast  to  the  one  I  had  left.  Here  I 
had  only  one  horse  to  take  care  of,  and  a  small  garden  to 
attend,  and  to  run  errands — all  of  which  I  was  ready  and 
glad  to  do.  The  good  people  commenced  making  me  clothes 
suitable  to  wear  to  church.  They  had  also  expressed  their 
intention  to  send  me  to  school  for  the  summer  as  soon  as 
the  term  opened.  To  this  end — the  good  lady  was  a  real 
mother  to  me — she  even  had  me  studv  and  recite  to  her, 
for,  she  said,  her  boy  must  be  as  smart  as  the  other  school- 
boys. All  this  seemed  like  a  dream.  Could  it  be  possible 
there  were  such  whole-souled,  such  noble-hearted  people? 
But  it  was  a  fact.  And  it  would  seem  that  better  days 
were  in  the  future. 

But,  alas!  all  these  hopes  were  suddenly  turned  to  ashes 
and  I  grew  sick  at  heart  when  one  day,  after  I  had  been 
there  about  three  weeks,  a  man  came  into  the  store  who 
knew  all  about  me — knew  of  my  running  away,  and  of 
Preston's  fruitless  efforts  to  find  me.  I  overheard  him  tell 
the  good  people  that  I  was  a  runaway.  Confounded,  covered 
with  shame,  and  conscience  lashing  me  for  the  lie  I  had 
told,  and  the  fearful  anticipations  of  being  delivered  up,  I 
went  out  of  the  back  door,  stole  over  the  garden  fence, 
and  ran  away  from  this  place.  Though  scalding  tears  ran 
down  my  cheeks,  and  I  bitterly  repented  the    falsehood, 


72  A^UTOBIOGRATHY. 

Tet  this,  it  seems,  was  tlie  onlv  way  I  could  atoue  for  the 
sin.  Oh.  how  I  regretted  to  leave  this  place.  But  it  could 
not  be  helped. 

I  continued  my  liight,  passed  through  Monroe,  from 
there  southward,  and  vainly  sought  anotlier  home.  I  wan- 
dered about  over  the  prairies  for  over  a  week  in  a  fruitless 
search  of  a  place.  At  length,  failing  iu  my  efforts,  and 
mv  conseieiK-e  lashing  me  for  the  falsehood  told  to  such 
o-,:  :  i  :  e-rle.  I  lerurne  1  and  siiiTendered  myself  to  Preston. 
As  ini^h:  V-  un::.  ipa- 1.  I  received  the  merited  punish- 
ment. I  :li;l  n-:  >:  nii  .ain  of  this,  for  I  thought  it  was 
because  I  had  rold  riiar  awial  falsehood. 

Having  met  the  ends  of  justice.  I  now  hoped  for  better 
days,  but  it  would  seem  that  what  I  had  experienced  was 
only  a  prelude  to  what  was  to  follow,  and  that  my  life  had 
been  nrolono^ed  to  meet  a  most  horrible  death  under  the 
foh  j'.vmg  circumstances : 

I  was  at  work  on  some  low  lands  near  Sugar  Eiver, 
spreading  grass  after  three  men.  I  used  a  long  pole,  spread- 
in  o-  two  swaths  at  a  time.  As  I  was  intent  on  my  work,  I 
tos-cl  a  huge  rattlesnake  into  tlie  air  which  appeared  to 
have  been  concealed  under  the  swath.  As  soon  as  I  saw 
it.  it  so  frightened  me  that  I  knew  not  which  way  I  jump- 
ed. In  its  de-cent  it  came  verv  near  fallino^  on  my  liead, 
but  by  a  1  _  t^  n  my  part,  it  buried  its  poisonous  fangs 
in  cne  oi  n:^  yh-iles.  Coiling  up  and  raising  its  cerulean 
neck  h:_h  h\  :  .e  air.  with  the  rapid  vibration  of  its  forked 
toDo-ue,  it  was  i::  rh.  act  of  striking  another  blow,  when 
I  barely  escapea. 

The  deed  was  done!  I  was  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake!  They 
told  me  the  wound  was  fatal,  and  death  would  soon  follow: 
that  in  a  few  hours  I  would  be  in  eternity,  and  the  pain  I 
was  suffering  confirmed  what  they  said.  The  feeling  I  ex- 
perienced partook  of  the  nature  of  a  bee  sting,  but  the  pain 
was  a  hundred-fold  more  intense.     One  could  almost  see 


PERSONAL  rh:collkc"tion8.  73 

the  flesh  puflf  up,  so  raj)i(l  was  the  swelling.  One  of  tlie 
men  ran  for  the  doctor,  another  hound  tohacco  over  the 
bite,  while  a  third  told  me  to  run  to  the  }iou>e.  whidi  was 
half  a  mile  distant. 

The  advice  of  the  last  was  ill-timed,  for  by  running  1 
heated  my  blood,  and  consequently  carried  the  poison  with 
greater  rapidity  through  my  system. 

AVlien  I  arrived  at  the  house  they  applied  a  fresh  quantity 
of  tobacco,  and  gave  me  a  pint  of  whisky  to  drink,  but  the 
latter  I  could  hot  retain  on  my  stomach.  As  soon  as  the 
physician  came,  he  ordered  two  sacks  to  be  filled  with  ashes. 
These  he  placed  one  on  each  side  of  my  ankle,  with  the  in- 
struction that  they  be  saturated  with  warm  water  every 
fifteen  minutes.  He  also  gave  me  some  medicine,  the  name 
of  which  I  do  not  remember.  This  was  to  be  the  remedy. 
It  was  to  kill  me  or  the  poison,  and  it  came  very  near  doing 
the  former.  Water  was  strictly  forbidden  me.  My  lips 
were  parched,  my  tongue  swollen,  and  my  throat  and 
stomach  seemed  on  fire.  I  was  undergoing  all  the  suffer- 
ings that  a  mortal  could.  In  vain  I  cried  and  begged  for 
*' a  drop  of  water  to  cool  my  parched  tongue."  The  only 
way  they  could  keep  me  within  bounds,  wjis  by  threatening 
to  apply  more  warm  water  to  the  sacks  of  ashes. 

It  now  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  but  one  remove  from 
the  gates  of  death,  and  it  mattered  but  little;  there  would 
not  one  tear  fall  for  me — none  would  weep  over  my  lonely 
grave-— no  loving  mother  repair  to  the  silent  spot  at  even- 
tide, just  as  the  sun  is  sinking  down  the  West,  to  plant  the 
flowers  I  loved  best  upon  the  rude  mound  above  me.  Ves, 
my  dear  mother  was  ignorant  of  the  pain  I  was  suflering; 
of  the  fact  that  her  absent  boy  was  on  the  verge  of  eternity. 

Time  passed  away.  Oh,  how  long  the  minutes!  Being 
wild  for  the  want  of  water,  the  old  man  thought  1  would 
die  if  it  was  longer  withheld,  and  I  could  but  die  if  he 
gave  me  some.     So  he  took  a  tin  pail   to  get  some  fresh. 


74  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

No  sooner  had  he  gone,  than  off  the  bed  I  plunged  for  the 
water-pail  which  contained  but  a  little.  By  sundown  the 
Ije  had  eaten  all  of  the  flesh  away,  leaving  the  joints  and 
bones  naked.  But  I  had  not  yet  suffered  enough,  for  they 
filled  all  the  cavities  which  the  lye  had  made  with  salera- 
tus.  Oh,  horrors!  They  were  murdering  me  by  inches! 
The  saleratus  seemed  like  the  application  of  burning  fire. 
The  piercing  pain  of  the  snake's  bite,  the  raging  of  a  fever, 
the  thirst  so  intense  that  my  tongue  was  swollen  beyond 
speech,  made  night  fearful,  and  minutes  seemed  years.  I 
could  literally  feel  the  saleratus  eating  away  my  flesh  and 
bones.  In  the  morning  they  removed  the  bandages,  when 
the  frightful  appearance  of  my  leg  made  it  manifest  that 
something  else  must  speedily  be  done.  Upon  the  removal 
of  the  bandages,  the  looks  of  the  work  which  the  salera- 
tus had  done  clearly  suggested  that  if  it  was  applied  much 
longer  it  would  eat  my  foot  away.  I  told  them  that  I  was 
williag  to  die;  I  did  not  wish  to  be  tormented  in  that  way 
any  longer.  In  spite  of  their  efforts  to  eat  the  poison  out, 
it  was  rapidly  working  its  way  to  the  seat  of  life.  Al- 
ready the  swelling  was  above  my  knee,  and  I  could  live 
but  a  few  hours  at  the  lono^est.  Indeed  death  would  have 
been  an  angel  of  mercy  in  that  hour  of  agony. 

What  transpired  after  this  I  know  not,  for  the  sufferings 
I  underwent  made  me  delirious. 

Since  this  part  of  the  sketch  has  been  in  print  1  have 
had  several  call  on  me  at  my  office  who  told  me  they  saw 
me  at  the  time  above  referred  to,  and  their  account  of  my 
appearance  was  startling.  The  above  is  given  only  up  to 
the  time  when  reason  was  overcome  by  the  tortures  of  the 
body.  Hon.  J.  H.  Yenton,  of  Broadhead,  AVis.,  who  saw 
me  at  the  time,  said  he  had  no  reasonable  expectation  that 
I  would  ever  recover. 

When  I  began  to  return  to  consciousness  everything 
seemed  so  strange.     The  voices,  the  looks,  the  actions,  all 


PERSONAL    RFrOT.T.KrTTOXS.  <5 

appeared  changed.  People  from  far  and  near  gathered  to 
see  the  boy.  bitten  bv  a  snake.  Indeed,  it  is  not  possible 
for  me  to  depict  my  sufferings.  I  have  since  learned  that 
I  was  so  reduced,  and. my  moans  were  so  plaintive  and  sad, 
my  leg  was  so  frightful  to  behold  that  many  who  had  come 
to  see  me,  turned  away  without  the  sight.  I  was  a  helpless 
sufferer  for  about  six  weeks.  Food  had  a  very  noxious 
taste,  and  water  gruel  eaten  hot  was  the  only  thing  I  could 
eat  or  retain  on  my  stomach. 

As  soon  as  I  sufficiently  recovered,  Mr.  Preston  told  me 
I  had  been  for  over  six  weeks  at  his  expense,  and  I  must 
pay  for  it  by  my  industry.  I  have  always  been  willing  to 
work,  and  loved  to  work,  but,  notwithstanding  my  readi- 
ness to  obey,  for  me  to  enter  a  harvest-field  under  a  burn- 
ing August  sun,  reduced  in  strength  as  I  was,  and  the 
swelling  not  being  sufficiently  subsided  to  wear  a  bout — 
besides  my  ankle  was  all  raw,  the  flesh  having  been  eaten 
away  to  the  very  bone,  so  that  I  could  hardly  endure  the 
pressure  of  the  cotton  bandages,  let  alone  wearing  a  boot 
or  shoe — to  go  into  a  harvest-field  under  such  bodily  sufler- 
ing,  was  simply  going  to  my  grave;  yet,  in  this  condition, 
I  was  told  to  go  and  work  in  the  field.  The  command  was 
imperative,  and  to  disobey  it  was  death.  I  obeyed  and 
made  the  attempt. 

Upon  entering  the  field  the  sharp  stubbles  pierced  the 
bandages  like  knife-blades,  and  the  blood  flowing  from  the 
wounds  re-opened,  marked  my  foot-steps.  It  being  a  hot 
day,  the  sun  shone  upon  me  very  oppressively.  I  endured 
it  for  half  an  hour,  when  I  became  deadly  sick  at  the 
stomach,  and,  for  the  want  of  strength,  sunk  down  uiuler 
the  pain  and  weakness.  The  old  gentleman,  who  was  in 
the  field  at  the  time,  seeing  I  was  exhausted,  took  me  to 
the  house.  Scarcely  had  we  arrived  when  Preston  heard  of 
it,  and  started  for  the  house.  AVe  could  see  by  his  step 
that  ansrer  was  burniui'  in  his  bosom.     The  old   man  took 


76  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

me  up  stairs,  and  lie  himself  stood  in  the  stairway  as 
Preston  rushed  in  at  the  door,  all  in  a  passion,  and 
demanded  me  to  be  given  over  into  his  hands.  The  old 
gentleman  refused  to  do  so,  and  stoutly  resisted  to  the  last. 
Preston  at  length  went  away,  swearing  and  muttering  he 
would  kill  me  the  first  time  he  laid  his  hands  on  me.  Con- 
sidering my  feebleness  at  this  time,  I  do  not  know  what 
would  have  been  the  result  had  I  been  surrendered  into 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Preston,  for  he  was  a  very  large,  muscu- 
lar man. 

This  was  on  a  Saturday.  Something  must  be  done 
immediately.  The  old  folks  said  they  could  protect  me 
no  longer,  that  Preston  would  vent  his  malice  on  me  the 
first  opportunity  which  presented  itself,  that  my  life  was 
in  his  hands.  My  heart  sank  within  me  at  this  intelli- 
gence. It  was  more  than  I  could  endure  as  I  reflected 
on  my  helpless  condition,  and  of  going  out  in  the  world 
alone.  The  good  old  folks  deeply  sympathized  with  me, 
but  that  was  all  they  could  do. 

The  Sabbath  at  length  arrived.  It  was  as  radiant  a 
morning  as  ever  dawned  upon  this  world.  There  was 
just  breeze  enough  to  stir  the  foliage  overhead.  I  retired 
to  a  shady  tree  by  the  bank  of  the  river  which  was  not 
far  away,  and,  there  in  my  retreat,  with  heart  too  full  of 
sadness  for  utterance,  I  thought  of  the  days  of  long  ago, 
of  a  home  on  the  mountain,  of  a  kind  mother  whom  I 
left  standing  in  the  doorway  of  that  home  weeping  over 
my  departure,  of  brothers  and  sister.  Thus  I  sat  for 
a  long  time,  my  heart  filled  with  sorrow  and  my  eyes 
with  tears.  Weeping  over  my  misfortunes,  I  felt  the 
distance  was  great,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
me  to  return  East.  All  the  pleasant  associations  of 
former  times  crowded  through  my  mind.  The  thought  of 
the  cleft  in  the  rock,  the  sweet  songs  of  birds,  my  play- 
mates, the  Sabbath- school,  the  smiles  of  the  good  woman 


PERSONAL    KKC50LLKCTION8.  77 

that  led  me  tliere,  and  a  thousand  other  things,  came  up 
before  my  mind's  eye,  and  only  added  to  my  despondency. 
While  thus  all  pensive,  a  drove  of  cattle  passed  me.  The 
owner  halted  and  urged  me  to  help  him  drive  his  cattle. 
I  told  him  what  had  befallen  me,  that  my  foot  rendered 
me  unable,  that  I  was  very  feeble,  and  feared  I  would  be 
of  no  use  to  him.  lie  said  he  had  failed  to  get  a  boy,  and 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  drive  his  cattle,  and,  if  I 
would  go,  he  would  let  me  ride  his  horse.  I  replied  that  I 
would  try  it. 

What  little  effects  I  had  were  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief, 
and  I  stepped  out  into  the  wide  world,  a  homeless  boy. 
For  four  days  we  journeyed.  In  the  meantime  he 
in([uired  into  my  history.  I  told  him  the  sim]>le  story. 
He  rei)lied  that  he  would  give  me  a  good  home,  if  I  would 
go  with  him.  I  gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  agreed 
to  go.  On  the  fifth  day  we  arrived  at  Sauk  City,  upon  the 
Wisconsin  river.  While  waiting  here  for  our  turn  to  cross 
the  bridge,  a  peculiar  fever  came  over  me  and  I  sank  upon 
the  ground.  The  gentleman  took  me  across  the  bridge  to 
a  hotel,  and  called  in  a  physician,  who,  upon  examination, 
said  I  had  the  fever  and  ague.  I  was  unable  to  go  farther, 
and  the  man  could  not  wait  with  his  herd  of  cattle.  So  he 
paid  me  $4.50  for  my  services,  and  left  me  to  my  fate. 

The  next  morning,  feeling  much  better,  I  went  in  pur- 
suit of  the  drover.  I  went  through  every  street  and  in- 
quired at  every  street  corner  to  learn  which  road  the  drover 
had  taken;  but  my  search  was  fruitless.  Tired  and  in  a 
strange  city,  what  could  I  do  but  return?  With  a  heavy 
heart  I  recrossed  the  river,  for  tlie  purpose,  if  possible,  to 
find  a  home  somewhere  along  the  road.  I  had  proceeded 
but  a  short  distance,  when  another  chill  came  upon  me, 
and  I  was  compelled  to  lay  down  beside  the  road.  After 
the  chill  had  passed  away  I  arose  and  went  on  my  way, 
but  it  had  such  a  weakening  efiect  upon  me  that  I  tilt  faint 


78  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and  hardly  able  to  walk.  Upon  arriving  at  the  first  house, 
1  stopped  and  asked  if  I  might  rest  myself.  The  lady  gave 
me  permission  to  do  so.  Feeling  my  lonely  and  destitute 
condition,  I  thought  of  mother,  and  tears  filled  my  eyes. 
The  lady,  seeing  me  weeping,  asked  the  cause  of  my  sor- 
row. I  told  her  what  had  befallen  me;  that  I  had  a  kind 
mother  whom  I  never  expected  to  see;  that  I  was  an  out- 
cast in  the  world;  that  a  snake's  bite  had  almost  brought 
me  to  the  grave,  and  now  the  fever  and  ague  was  consum- 
ing me.  She  tried  to  encourage  me  to  hope  for  better 
things. 

I  stayed  there  two  days,  and  the  lady  was  very  kind  to 
me.  How  I  wished  it  was  my  home.  But  the  lady  was 
so  good  that  I  did  not  have  it  in  my  heart  to  ask  her,  for 
fear  of  asking  too  much. 

On  the  third  day  I  felt  so  much  refreshed  that  I  renewed 
my  efforts  in  trying  to  find  a  home.  Whenever  I  asked  a 
man  for  work,  he  would  look  at  me  and  say  "What  can  you 
do?"  The  sufferings  I  had  undergone  had  left  their  traces 
upon  my  person,  and  plainly  suggested  that  I  would  be  of 
no  service.  Being  frustrated  in  my  efforts,  I  gave  up  to 
desponding  feelings,  caring  but  little  what  1  did,  or  where 
I  went,  or  what  became  of  me.  At  length,  having  wan- 
dered some  three  weeks,  and  traveled  over  two  hundred 
miles  on  foot,  I  returned  again  to  the  old  folks,  telling  them 
my  efforts  had  been  without  success,  and  that  I  wanted 
them  to  shelter  me  until  I  could  find  a  home.  The  old 
folks,  with  sadness,  yet  with  good  reasons,  and  with  sym- 
pathy for  me,  told  me  I  must  not  let  Preston  see  me,  or 
"he  would  whip  me  within  an  inch  of  my  life."  I  left  the 
house  more  discouraged  than  ever,  and  my  aching  heart 
found  solace  only  in  tears. 


PEB80NAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  79 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LONOINO  FOR  A  IIoME — A    NlGHT  IN  THE  AViLD  WoODS A 

DitEAM — A  Long  Journey — Incidents  by  the  TV  ay — 
Arriving  at  West  Stephentown,  New  York. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  reason  why  I  failed  to 
find  a  liome  was  because  I  was  rendered  a  cripple  for  the 
time  being  by  reason  of  my  ankle,  and  because  I  was  suf- 
fering under  that  consuming  and  life-wasting  disease — 
fever  and  ague.  Truly  all  things  seemed  against  me,  and 
the  world  looked  very  dark  and  discouraging.  The  wide, 
wide  world  had  no  home  for  mv  achintr  head  and  broken 
heart.  I  had  tried,  oh,  so  faithfully,  to  find  a  home,  but  all 
in  vain.  The  people  did  not  care  to  have  a  sick  boy.  Id 
this  new  country  only  healthy  persons  were  wanted. 

These,  circumstances,  added  to  the  fact  that  I  was  over 
a  thousand  miles  from  home  and  friends,  rendered  my  con- 
dition distressing.  Being  worn  out  by  pain  and  sickness 
and  the  continued  travels  on  foot,  under  an  Aujrust  sun, 
and  frequently  deprived  of  my  meals,  for  people  were  not 
always  thoughtful  to  invite  me  to  their  tables,  and  I  was 
too  bashful  to  ask,  I  was  little  prepared  to  undergo  the 
ills  before  me.  Thus  I  had  little  encouraofeuient  or  strencrth 
to  continue  my  search.  I  was  wandering  1  knew  not  wher*. 
In  short,  there  was  but  a  step  to  the  grave.  Thus  was  my 
heart  filled  with  a  sadness  that  cannot  be  described.  The 
reader  need  not  be  surprised  if  I  was  a  loner  time  in  s-oino- 
a  short  distance. 

I  had  scarcely  passed  out  of  sight  of  the  house  which 
could  afibrd  me  protection  no  longer,  when  it  was  most 
sunset,  and  the  nearest  house  before  me  in  the  way  was 


80  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

three  miles  distant.  I  was  now,  for  the  first  time  since 
mj  misfortune,  passing  the  spot  were  the  monster  gave 
me  the  ahuost  fatal  wound.  As  I  crossed  the  brido^e,  I 
paused  for  a  moment  upon  it  to  look  down  into  the  dark, 
purple  waters  of  the  sluggish  stream;  then  I  raised  my 
eves  toward  the  spot  where  the  snake  bit  me.  Oh,  it  was 
such  a  dark  hour  to  me!  Oh,  the  desolation,  the  bitter 
anguish  of  my  sad  heart  and  lonely  life!  Giving  l  deep, 
farewell  sigh  I  passed  on.  I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance, 
when  I  felt  the  fever  coming  on.  Being  weak  and  faint,  I 
laid  down  by  the  roadside. 

Alreadv  the  sun  was  sinkino^  behind  the  western  hills, 
mirroring  its  golden  light  on  the  bosom  of  the  not-far-off 
river.  As  twiljo^ht  was  shroudine:  the  nio:ht  in  darkness,  I 
felt  a  peculiar  terror  creep  over  me.  I  thought  of  my  help- 
less condition,  how  I  was  now  out  in  the  wild  woods  of  the 
far  West,  helpless,  that  only  a  few  rods  intervened  between 
me  and  where  the  deadly  serpent  did  his  cruel  act — and 
the  thought  suggested  to  my  mind  that  perhaps  another 
dread  monster  might  be  hid  in  the  grass  and  come  upon 
me  before  mornino^,  made  the  blood  run  cold  in  mv  veins. 
My  tongue  parched,  my  body  being  consumed  by  the  burn- 
ing fever,  my  mind  filled  with  longings  for  some  kind  pro- 
tector, with  nothing  to  cover  me  but  heaven's  blue  vault, 
glittering  with  the  stars  of  night,  my  mind  was  wild,  and 
the  horrors  of  fear  seemed  more  terrible  than  death.  Every 
rustling  sound  or  undefined  object  peering  through  the  dark- 
ness, added  new  terror  to  my  excited  imagination.  The  dole- 
ful screaches  of  the  night  birds,  the  faint  and  far-a-way  how- 
lings  of  the  prairie-wolves,  every  flutter  and  sound,  caused 
mv  hair  to  stand  on  end.  In  the  bitterness  of  mv  desolation  I 
cried  out  for  very  fear:  O  my  God  why  am  I  thus  abandoned? 
But  no  help  came.  I  was  beyond  the  reach  of  human  sound. 
For  hours  I  turned  first  on  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
and  called  for  help.     Then  I  prayed.     In  the  depths  of  my 


PKRSONAL    BECOLLECnONS.  81 

lielplessness  I  wept  until  exhausted  with  fear  and  terror. 
Oil,  what  a  terrible  night  I  Overcome  with  weariness  at 
last,  and  the  night  being  calm  and  warm,  after  quieting 
my  fears  as  best  I  could,  at  length  I  fell  asleep,  sweetly  re- 
posing upon  the  ground,  under  a  kind  and  heavenly  Father's 
protection,  forgetting  all  my  ills  and  sorrows. 

From  the  depths  of  my  heart,  dear  young  reader,  I 
can  but  pray  that  you  may  be  spared  such  distress,  li' 
you  have  kind  parents,  love  and  honor  them;  if  you  have 
a  good,  comfortable  home,  stay  in  it  contentedly,  whatever 
the  temptations  may  be  to  leave  it  Had  I  known  what 
Wiis  before  me,  when  I  turned  away  from  the  weeping 
group  in  tlie  doorway  of  that  mountain  home,  nothing 
c<juld  have  persuaded  me  to  have  abandoned  it  for  the 
abuses  I  had  and  was  undergoing.  Enjoy  childhood  and 
youth  while  you  may,  for  sorrow  and  aire  and  calamities 
of  some  kind  may  come  upon  you  full  soon.  Few  know 
or  can  fully  realize  the  bitterness  of  the  world  until  they 
are  left  destitute,  friendless  and  among  strangers.  There 
is  a  deeper  meaning  in  the  story  of  the  prodigal  son 
coming  to  himself,  than  we  are  wont  to  give  it.  In  my 
case  it  was  not  profligacy,  yet,  had  I  remained  within 
reach  of  my  home,  I  would  have  been  spared  much  of  that 
desponding  distress  which  my  pen  fails  to  describe.  It 
must  be  felt  to  be  realized,  for  in  the  depth  of  my  desola- 
tion the  memory  of  the  past  ever  haunted  me.  I  once 
had  a  happy  liome.  And  to  what  place  on  earth  does  the 
heart  cling  so  fondly,  and  with  such  pleasing  and  inde- 
structible recollections?  The  home  of  our  early  childhoiKi; 
the  playground  of  youth's  sunny  period.  Home  I  a  word 
which  lies  very  near  the  heart  of  us  all — imbedded  in 
tender  and  sacred  associations.  All  that  is  endearing  in 
the  relation  of  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters, 
a  mother's  watchful  love,  a  father's  protection — all  cling 
around  the  word  Ilome^  and  over  it  always  is  spread  the 
6 


82  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

radiance  of  those  remembered  jojs,  such  as  the  morning 
of  life  only  knows.  The  man  most  to  be  pitied  is  he  who 
has  no  home.  Having  lived  a  homeless  life  until  pros- 
perity and  hard  toil  have  reared  my  beautiful  and  attractive 
home,  I  write  the  language  of  my  inmost  nature  in  these 
lines,  and  would  impress  it  upon  every  young  man.  The 
man  who  makes  for  himself  a  happy  home  has  the  chief 
means  of  all  earthly  comfort  and  blessing.  What  need  he 
care  for  the  world's  favors  or  frowns?  If  his  home  is 
happy,  there  is  always  a  place  of  refuge  in  adversity  and 
prosperity.  When  the  world  goes  wrong,  when  misfortune 
overtakes  you,  when  friends  turn  away,  when  the  disgust 
of  your  fellowmen  follow  you  through  every  walk  and 
by-path,  when  you  are  wronged,  misunderstood  and  neg- 
lected, what  a  blessing,  what  a  balm,  to  enter  the  doors  of 
your  happy  dwelling — shutting  the  cold  world  out,  and  the 
warm  affection  of  what  is  more  than  all  the  world  to  you, 
in.  Here  is  the  one  place  where  you  are  welcome,  the  one 
place  where  you  feel  that  you  are  understood  and  trusted, 
the  one  place  you  love  above  all  others,  and  where  you  arc 
sure  of  meeting  with  sympathy.  Yes,  make  your  home 
happy,  and  you  have  an  ark  of  safety  amidst  the  storms  of 
life.  A  happy  home  I  with  what  cheerfulness  does  it  wing 
the  steps  of  duty!  What  other  blessing  does  a  man  need 
who  has  this?  And  he  who  has  it  not,  what  blessing  does 
he  not  lack?  Home  !  the  one  word  of  all  others  the  most 
thought  of,  the  most  often  on  the  lips,  and  the  most  dearly 
loved. 

But  to  return.  In  that  night  I  had  a  strange  dream. 
I  thought  I  was  in  a  beautiful  garden  having  all  manner 
of  trees,  and  bowers,  and  plants,  and  fruit,  and  blooming 
flowers,  and  fountains  jetting  forth  pure,  sparkling  water, 
and  music  seemed  to  fill  the  air,  and,  presently,  I  came  to 
a  streamlet  rolling  its  sparkling  waters  over  pebbles  in  a 
merry,  laughing  mood.     On  its  green  banks  was  a  table 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  83 

filled  with  a  great  variety  of  eatables.  Smiling  faces  and 
happy  voices  seemed  to  be  all  around  me,  and  })resently, 
mother  came  up  to  me  and  threw  her  arms  around  my 
neck  and  was  so  glad  to  see  her  loDg-lost  boy,  and  wiped 
sorrow's  tears  from  my  eyes,  and  bade  me  sit  down,  eat 
and  drink;  and  the  water  from  the  brook  looked  so  pure 
and  tasted  so  refreshing  that  it  seemed  to  heal  all  ray  ills. 
Everybody  seemed  so  kind  in  tone,  in  looks,  in  symj)athy, 
in  lovinof  attention,  that  I  forirot  all  mv  sorrows  and  was 
happy  amid  these  associations.  My  brothers  and  sister 
were  in  the  company;  I  also  saw  Mrs.  Wait,  and  Warren 
and  Addie;  presently  the  whole  Sabbath -school  was  before 
me.  They  listened  with  wrapped  attention  to  the  story  of 
my  suffering,  which  it  appears  I  related  to  them.  They 
all  deeply  sympathized  with  me;  then  they  broke  forth  in 
a  sweet  hymn — oh,  such  heavenly  voices  !  I  had  occasion 
to  drink  very  often  of  the  sparkling  waters  from  the  jetting 
fountains.  And  every  time  I  drank,  I  seemed  to  be 
stronger.  All  around  me  was  brightness  and  good  cheer. 
Flowers  in  endless  variety  bloomed  on  every  hand,  and 
bees  and  insects  were  flving'  from  shrub  to  shrub;  from 
branch  and  bower  the  birds  were  pouring  forth  their  songs; 
there  was  such  a  strange  combination  of  the  earthly  and 
the  heavenly.  I  seemed  restored  to  health  and  strength — 
and  heaven  could  have  presented  no  brighter  charms  than 
were  spread  out  before  me.  Truly  the  good  angels  must 
have  kept  watch  on  that  night  over  the  slumbers  of  a  poor, 
helpless  child. 

At  length,  I  awoke!  My  tear-stained  cheeks  were  dry 
and  hot,  my  tongue  swollen  in  my  mouth,  and  my  lips 
parched.  Half  confused  I  looked  all  around  me.  I  could 
not  make  out  where  I  was.  The  dream  yet  hung  in  my 
memory,  and  I  could  not  reconcile  the  contrast  between 
what  I  had  just  passed  through  in  my  sleep  and  my 
actual  surroundings.     But    the  dream  had  a  wonderfully 


8'4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sootliiiig  effect  upon  me.  All  the  fear  and  terror  was  gone, 
and,  like  a  sweet  song,  the  dream  would  come  up  before 
me  all  that  day,  and  for  a  long  time  after.  While  thus 
musing  over  mv  thoughts,  rosj-fingered  dawn  heralded 
the  approaching  day,  while  the  merry  birds,  waking  from 
their  sleep,  made  glad  the  morning  with  their  cheering 
songs.  Wet  with  the  dew  of  night,  I  arose,  feeling  that 
the  good  Lord  had  truly  sent  a  protecting  angel  to  watcli 
over  me  through  the  night,  for  my  sleep  was  sweet  and 
refreshing.  A  prayer  from  a  truly  grateful  heart  went  up 
to  high  Heaven  on  that  morning.  After  which  I  continued 
my  efforts  to  find  a  home,  but  meeting  with  no  success,  I 
resolved  to  go  home;  for  what  else  could  I  do? 

I  went  to  Albany,  and  the  following  morning  I  took  the 
stage  for  Footville,  having  money  enough  to  pay  my  fare, 
which  I  had  obtained  from  the  cattle  drover.  Why  I  took 
the  stage  for  Footville,  I  know  not;  for  on  our  way  West 
we  came  through  Milwaukee  and  Janesville  to  Albany; 
and  as  I  had  never  seen  such  a  thing  as  a  geography,  it 
would  have  been  most  natural  to  retrace  the  route  we  came, 
unless  a  divine  Providence  guided  me,  for  so  it  would  seem 
by  what  followed. 

As  the  stage  drove  up  to  the  postoffice  to  receive  the 
mail,  Mr.  ^N^ichols,  the  owner  of  eight  or  ten  stage  lines 
that  center  in  Albany,  took  passage.  On  our  way,  Mr. 
Nichols,  who  was  a  noble-hearted  man,  asked  me  where  I 
was  going.  I  told  him.  He  was  surprised  to  learn  I  had 
undertaken  such  a  journey  alone,  and  asked  me  if  I  had 
money  enough.  I  was  embarrassed  to  reply,  for  I  did  not 
wish  to  tell  him  I  had  none,  yet  I  wanted  to  speak  the 
truth,  so  I  told  him  I  had  paid  the  last  cent  that  morning 
for  my  fare  to  Footville.  He  wanted  to  know  how  I 
expected  to  travel  without  money.  I  could  give  him  no 
answer,  so  I  told  him  my  history,  and  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do.     He  was  moved  in  sympathy  for  me,  pulled 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  85 

out  bis  ])oeket-buuk  Jind  gave  me  some  money,  saying  be 
was  on  bis  way  to  Cbicago,  and  be  would  pay  my  passage 
on  tbe  cars.  Ob,  bow  glad  I  was!  and  I  coukl  not  tbank 
tbe  good  gentleman  enougli  for  bis  kindness. 

We  arrived  at  Footville  at  10  o'cb>ck,  wbere  we  took  tlio 
cars  for  Cbicago.  Upon  arriving  in  C'bicago,  be  took  me 
to  tbe  office  of  tbe  ^[icbigan  Central  Rivilway  Co.,  wbere 
be  was  tbe  means  of  obtaining  a  free  pass  for  me  to 
Detroit.  Tbus  tbis  generous  gentleman  assisted  me  about 
5^0  miles.  I  was  sick  most  of  tbe  way.  Wbile  waiting 
for  tbe  departure  of  tbe  train  in  Cbicago,  I  was  not  able 
to  sit  up.  After  I  entered  tbe  cars,  I  tbougbt  I  sbould  die 
from  tbe  terrible  gripes  in  my  stomacb.  I  was  very  sick 
wbile  in  tbe  cars  between  Cbicairo  and  Detroit.  At 
Detroit  I  took  a  steamer  for  BuHalo.  After  tbe  boat 
landed  at  Buffalo,  I  sougbt  tbe  Xew  York  Central  Railway 
Depot.  Tbus  far  I  bad  found  no  difficulty.  But  my 
money  was  now  all  gone,  and  tbere  was  no  alternative  but 
to  foot  tbe  remainder  of  tbe  way,  wbicb  I  proceeded  to 
do.  Some  days  I  bardly  made  any  progress  on  account  of 
attacks  of  fever  and  ague  and  tbe  weakness  of  my  ankle, 
wbicb  was  not  vet  balf  bealed.  Xio^bts  I  would  crawl 
into  freigbt-cars  or  wberever  I  could  pass  tbe  bours.  One 
day,  toward  evening  I  arrived  in  a  beautiful  village. 
Sitting  down  upon  tbe  platform  of  tbe  station-bouse  to 
rest,  a  number  of  boys  gatbered  around,  some  to  make 
sport,  wbile  tbree  nol^le-bearted  fellows  gave  me  all  tbe 
money  tbey  bad,  wbicb  amounted  to  twelve  cents. 

"W^bile  bere,  a  boy  wbo  sold  apples  upon  tbe  arrival  of 
trains,  told  me  be  made  from  $2  to  $3  per  day  at  tbe  busi- 
ness, and  urged  me  to  go  into  partnersbip  witb  bim.  I 
was  pleased  witb  tbe  offer,  for  I  tbougbt  I  could  make 
money  enougli  in  a  sbort  time  to  take  me  bome.  He  said 
be  would  see  tiiat  I  bad  all  tbe  apples  I  needed,  tbougb  be 
did  not  tell  me  wbere  be  i^ot  tbem,  nor  did   I  tbink  to  ask 


86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

him.  I  hastened  to  buy  me  a  basket,  for  which  I  spent  the 
money  which  the  noble-hearted  youths  had  given  me,  and 
prepared  for  business. 

Long  before  day  he  had  me  up  wading  through  the  wet 
grass  towards  a  large  orchard.  When  I  saw  that  he  was 
intent  on  stealing  them,  I  hesitated  and  turned  back. 
Upon  this  he  swore  at  me,  called  me  a  coward  and  many 
other  hard  names. 

Taking  the  basket  back  to  the  store,  I  wanted  the  mer- 
chant to  take  it  back  and  return  me  the  money.  This  he 
would  not  do,  but  I  could  take  its  equivalent  in  anything 
else,  so,  as  he  had  nothing  eatable,  I  took  a  cheap  pocket- 
book,  utterly  regardless  as  to  whether  I  would  ever  have 
any  money  to  put  into  it.  Thus  ended  my  experience  in 
selling  apples. 

After  some  two  weeks'  weary  traveling,  I  arrived  at 
Kochester.  Here  I  was  dragged  to  a  station-house  by  the 
police  simply  because  they  found  me  in  a  freight-car,  about 
midnight,  for  where  else  could  I  find  a  place  to  sleep?  In 
prison  I  sat  down  upon  the  marble  floor,  for  there  was 
nothing  in  the  cell,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night 
in  breathing  the  filthy,  noxious  air,  and  in  being  com- 
pelled to  listen  to  horrid  imprecations  on  all  sides.  The 
weary  hours*  slowly  passed,  and  in  the  morning  I  was 
taken  before  the  police  court  to  give  an  account  of  myself. 
The  room  was  filled  with  idle  spectators,  and  I  felt  very 
muoh  ashamed  of  myself.  The  Judge  took  his  seat, 
opened  the  court,  and  I  was  the  first  criminal  on  the 
docket.  I  trembled  like  a  leaf  as  he  eyed  me  and  asked 
me  of  what  crime  I  was  guilty.  I  related  the  circum- 
stances, how  I  was  put  in  prison.  Upon  this  he  set  me 
at  liberty  without  note  or  comment.  But  I  could  never 
understand  why  I  was  taken  to  the  prison  for  no  other 
crime  than  simply  being  found  asleep  in  a  freight-car.  As 
soon  as  I  gained  my  liberty,  I  took  the  shortest  way  out 
of  that  citv. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  87 

I  prosecuted  my  journey  as  best  I  could.  I  was  often 
cauglit  in  passing  storms.  I  suppose  I  did  not  travel 
more  than  six  or  eight  miles  a  day.  Indeed,  it  was 
impossible  to  do  more.  Frequently  I  had  to  lay  down  by 
the  side  of  the  railroad  and  wait  until  a  chill  or  a  fever 
passed.  Only  those  who  have  experienced  the  ravages 
of  this  disease  know  how  I  sutfered  under  it,  exposed  as 
1  was  to  rain  and  sunshine,  heat  and  cold,  to  night  air  and 
cloudy  days. 

One  day  the  ague  came  over  me,  as  it  was  wont  to  do, 
80  I  laid  down  upon  a  plank  beside  the  railroad.  After 
"  sliaking  "  for  over  an  hour,  I  fell  asleep  with  one  of 
my  ears  down  upon  the  plank.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  ter- 
rible crash  as  if  the  world  were  convulsed  to  its  center. 
I  was  so  paralyzed,  I  could  have  felt  no  worse  if  the 
train  had  run  over  me,  and  on  rushed  the  "lightning 
express,"  shaking  the  earth  beneath  its  ponderous  weight. 
I  did  not  lay  down  on  a  plank  again. 

One  evening  a  boy  invited  me  home.  I  accepted  tfie 
invitation  and  followed  him.  Upon  arriving,  he  told  his 
mother  he  had  a  homeless  boy.  She  treated  me  very 
kindly  —  gave  me  all  I  could  eat  and  a  good  bed.  I 
slept  so  soundly  that  I  did  not  wake  up  until  they 
came  to  the  room  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  and 
told  me  it  was  nine  o'clock!  I  was  surprised;  it  seemed  as 
if  I  had  slept  only  an  hour. 

At  another  time,  as  I  was  approaching  a  village,  I  felt 
the  ague  coming  on,  so  upon  arriving,  I  laid  down  upon 
the  stoop  of  the  depot.  A  railroad  man  coming  along 
ordered  me  off.  I  replied  that  I  had  a  "  shake,"  and  was 
unable  to  walk.  The  expression  led  him  to  inquire  as  to 
what  I  meant  by  having  a  "  shake."  I  explained  myself, 
and  told  him  where  I  came  from,  and  where  I  was  going, 
that  I  had  no  money  and  was  performing  the  journey  on 
foot.     lie  said  a  couple  of  freight  trains  were  shortly  due, 


88  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

and.  as  it  was  crettino:  dark,  I  could  steal  a  ride  bv  ojettino' 
on  the  '*  bumper  *'  of  a  freight  car.  This  filled  my  mind 
with  such  hopes  of  soon  putting  an  end  to  ray  struggles, 
that  upon  the  arrival  of  the  fii-st  train,  I  hastened  to  take 
my  place  on  a  bumper.  Scarcely  had  I  seated  myself, 
when  the  train  backed  up,  and  I  barely  escaped  having  my 
leofs  crushed  between  the  cars.  At  this  instant  the  (fon- 
ductor  came  alono:,  and  seeinor  me,  swore  at  me,  tellinor  nle 
to  oret  off  or  he  would  "'break  mv  neck."'  The  man  who 
had  instructed  me  to  get  on,  stepped  up  to  the  conductor 
and  told  him  my  unhappy  condition,  upon  which  the  con- 
ductor told  me  to  cret  into  the  '' wav-car.''  Oh,  how  mv 
heart  leaped  for  joy  I  After  the  train  had  •*'  started  up," 
the  conductor  came  to  me  and  inquired  farther  into  my 
history.  I  repeated  to  him  my  story.  His  heart  was 
moved,  and  he  bade  me  to  lay  aside  all  fear;  he  also  divided 
his  supper  with  me.  Oh,  how  grateful  I  was  to  him  for 
his  kindness. 

The  next  mornincr  found  us  at  Utica.  The  mornino:  lio^ht 
was  fast  dispelling  the  shades  of  night;  and  ere  the  train 
started  up  again  the  sun  had  lifted  his  golden  brow  and 
was  flooding  the  world  with  his  light.  The  grand  old 
!Mohawk  was  never  more  calm  than  in  that  summer  hour, 
and  in  the  quiet  of  that  Sabbath  morning.  Leaving  Utica, 
we  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  the  train  was 
brouorht  to  a  halt  bv  the  breakinor  of  an  axle.  ^After  con- 
siderable  delay  \he  train  again  proceeded.  About  one 
o'clock  we  reached  Schenect^y — only  16  miles  from  Albany 
— and  but  32  miles  from  dear  old  Stephentown.  I  now  be- 
gan to  be  very  much  excited.  My  heart  beat  with  hopes. 
Slowly  the  long  freight-train  held  its  way  over  the  serpen- 
tine track  which  has  some  remarkable  turns  east  of  Schen- 
ectady. When  within  about  eight  miles  of  Albany  my 
eyes  were  permitted  to  behold  the  mountains  of  my  own 
dear  home,  rearincr  their  loftv  brows  to  the  heavens,  and  at 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTION8.  89 

their  sight  all  the  associations  which  clustered  around  nicni- 
ory  were  awakened. 

We  arrived  at  AVest  Albany  about  four  o'clock.  From 
here,  as  the  freight  went  no  farther,  I  footed  the  remaining 
two  miles.  But  language  fails  to  describe  my  gratitude  to 
that  whole-hearted  conductor.  I  thanked  him  over  and 
over  attain.  Mav  heaven  reward  him  for  his  kindness  to  a 
poor,  helpless  boy. 

The  following  day,  for  three  miles,  I  passed  over  the  same 
road  on  foot  and  alone  that  I  passed  over  with  my  parents 
when  we  first  came  to  this  country. 

Here  as  I  passed  was  the  spot  where  we  children  sat 
down  to  rest  our  aching  feet;  yonder  is  the  house  where 
we  took  dinner:  farther  on  is  the  place  where  stoo4  the 
straw-stack  just  over  the  fence  where  I  nearly  perished  one 
cold  November  ni^rht. 

Three  miles  more,  and  I  enter  the  beautiful  village  of  West 
Sand  Lake,  nestling  in  ^a  beautiful  valley  environed  by 
hills.  Time  and  again  I  have  been  to  every  house  in  this 
village  asking  for  bread,  and  there  are  some  noble-hearted 
people  here.  I  pass  through  the  village,  and  shortly  came 
to  East  Sand  Lake,  and  then  to  the  village  of  Alps,  and 
lastly,  when  the  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high,  I  arrived  at 
West  Stephentown.  The  journey  was  accomplished,  though 
it  required  nearly  two  months  and  suffering  untold  in  the 
performance  of  it. 

0  young  reader,  thank  God  that  you  are  blessed  with 
kind  parents;  love  them,  honor  them,  and  may  you  never 
meet  with  such  misfortunes,  nor  experience  such  sad  hours! 

The  first  place  where  I  made  myself  known  was  at  the 
home  of  ray  brother  Peter,  lie  was  still  living  at  the 
same  place  at  which  I  left  him  upon  my  departure  West. 
I  appeared  like  one  from  the  dea^.  I  had  been  absent  nearly 
a  year,  and  I  was  so  changed  that  they  could  hardly  believe 


90  AUTOJJIOGRAPHY. 

that  the  poor,  dust-covered,  care-worn,  emaciated  boy,  was 
none  other  than  John. 

Ah!  yes,  it  had  been  a  hard  year  with  me,  and  the  re- 
counting of  my  trials  and  sufferings  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  all  who  listened  to  the  story.  After  a  few  days' 
rest  I  went  to  work  for  a  man. 

Though  I  greatly  desired  to  see  my  mother  and  the  chil- 
dren, yet  the  fear  of  father,  which  overruled  every  other 
consideration,  prevented  me  from  going  home. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  91 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  Surprise — At  IIomk — Reduced  by  Fever  and  Ague — 
Fleeing  for  Life — Wandering — Sitting  on  a  Stone  by 
THE  Roadside  Weeping — Relief — A  Good  Home 

The  fuUowing  Sabbath,  with  a  joyous  heart,  I  went  to 
the  dear  old  Sabbath-school  of  which  I  had  so  long  been 
deprived,  and  for  which  I  had  so  often  longed.  Oh,  how 
glad  I  was  to  again  look  upon  the  faces  of  the  dear,  good 
people  whom  I  had  learned  to  love  so  mucli,  and  whose 
kindness  to  me  was  cherished  throiio^h  all  mv  wanderincrs. 

It  may  seem  almost  incredible,  but  nevertheless  it  is  true, 
that  I  had  not  been  to  a  Sabbath-school  nor  had  I  heard  a 
sermon  preached  during  all  the  time  I  had  spent  abroad. 
Hence  this  was  one  of  the  most  refreshing  Sabbaths  of 
mv  life. 

Then  the  hearty  welcomes  1  received  on  every  hand,  and 
the  friendly  smiles,  these  were  as  a  medicine  to  my  deso- 
late, aching  heart.  But  all  this  was  only  a  gleam  of  sun- 
ahine  through  the  rifted  cloud. 

The  news  of  my  arrival,  though  I  tried  to  keep  it  sup- 
pressed, had  reached  the  ears  of  my  father.  Scarcely  had 
the  sound  of  welcome  died  on  the  air,  after  the  services  of 
the  Sabbath,  when,  while  on  my  way  home,  I  was  startled, 
and  terror  caused  me  to  tremble  like  a  fawn,  as  father  very 
unexpectedly  came  upon  me.  The  cold  chills  ran  over  me 
as  he  said,  '4  have  come  to  take  you  home."  I  now  thought 
I  was  doomed  to  go  home  and  commence  where  I  had  left 
off. 

Upon  arriving  at  home, mother  met  me  at  the  door  and  was 
very   glad  to  see  me.     That  evening   I    recounted  all   my 


92  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

struggles  to  my  mother.  She  was  greatly  affected.  But 
I  told  her  I  was  o^lad  she  was  iornorant  of  mv  sufferings,  as 
she  could  have  rendered  me  no  help.  For  a  few  days  father 
treated  me  with  great  kindness.  Mother  did  all  in  her 
power  to  break  up  the  ague,  but  her  .labor  was  in  vain.  I 
was  very  feeble  for  the  abuse  on  the  way,  the  exposure  to 
hunger,  to  damp  night  air,  to  rain  storms,  dej^ression  of 
mind,  and  the  consuming  fever,  had  reduced  me  to  such  a 
degree  that  my  frail  body  was  scarcely  able  to  perform  the 
functions  of  life. 

I  had  hoped  for  the  better,  but  father  thought  I  ought 
to  work,  and  I  was  willing  to  comply  with  his  request. 

The  blackberries,  which  are  very  bountiful  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  were  now  ripening,  so  my  little  sister  Mary 
and  I  went  to  pick  berries.  The  heavy  dews  kept  the  bushes 
wet  half  of  the  forenoon,  and  in  crowding  through  the 
brush  to  pick  the  berries  I  would  get  wet  through,  and  re- 
mained in  this  condition  until  the  sun  dried  my  clothes. 
Getting  wet  so  often  augmented  the  disease  under  which  I 
labored. 

However,  I  struggled  on  without  complaining,  though 
many  times  I  would  be  so  exhausted  that  I  had  to  sit  down. 
My  little  sister,  in  her  childlike  simplicity,  would  remon- 
strate with  me  for  not  telling  father  that  I  was  unable  to 
work.  I  told  the  dear  child  it  was  of  no  use;  I  would  do 
the  best  I  could  and  leave  the  result  with  God.  As  a  re- 
sult, when  night  came  I  returned  home  with  but  little  ac- 
complished. This  excited  father,  and  he  threatened  to 
punish  me  if  I  did  not  accomplish  more.  I  felt  sad  and 
discouraged,  and  resolved  to  run  away. 

I  longed  to  unfold  my  purpose  to  mother,  but  dared  not 
for  fear  she  would  not  approve  of  it. 

On  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  October,  when  father  was 
away,  I  carried  out  my  purpose.  Taking  a  farewell  look 
at  mother  and  Mary  and  the  baby,  which  was  innocently 


PERSONAL    KKCOLLECriOXS.  93 

sleeping  in  the  cradle  and  under  the  tender  watch  of  little 
lister,  1  departed;  they  little  thinking  what  a  step  I  was 
tiiking,  nor  did  I  realize  that  I  had  looke<l  upon  mother  for 
tlie  last  time. 

0  "  sweet  home,"  where  are  thy  endearing  ties  for  me? 
^lowly  and  reluctantly  I  turned  away  from  the  parental 
roof  never  again  to  be  sought  or  visited.  Gladly  would  I 
have  remained,  but  I  felt  if  I  ha<l  I  would  only  have 
sunken  into  an  untimely  and  premature  grave.  Although 
there  was  nothing  in  this  cold,  friendless  and  dreary  world 
which  I  craved,  yet  it  is  human  to  cling  to  life,  and  what 
little  I  had  was  dearer  to  me  than  any  one  else. 

1  was  so  weak  that  I  had  to  stop  and  rest  every  half 
mile,  yet  1  fel*i  that  in  order  to  make  sure  my  esciipe,  I 
must  get  out  of  the  neighborhood,  and  to  that  end  put 
forth  every  exertion.  I  continued  my  journey  for  several 
days,  when  I  commenced  looking  for  a  home.  I  kept  up 
a  good  heart  all  the  third  day,  though  I  met  with  no  suc- 
cess. The  fourth  day  I  renewed  my  efforts.  All  day  I 
traveled  from  place  to  place,  but  no  one  wanted  a  buy.  It 
looked  discouraging  enough.  I  could  not  helj)  but  feel 
apprehensive.  Perhaps  it  was  because  I  was  a  run-a-way. 
It  troubled  me.  It  might  be  possible  that  I  did  not  do 
right,  and  my  failures  might  be  visitations  upon  my  way- 
ward course.  At  all  events,  I  had  a  veiy  heavy  heart.  The 
day  was  far  spent.  Meeting  with  no  success,  and  being 
faint,  I  sat  down  on  a  large  stone  by  the  roadside.  While 
resting,  my  mind  wandered  out  over  the  past.  I  thought 
how  I  had  now  wandered  about  for  three  months,  having 
not  where  to  lay  my  head.  All  prospects  of  obtaining 
a  home  looked  doubtful.  With  a  troubled  heart  I  looked 
forward  to  coming  events.  Perj)lexe<l  and  troubled  in 
mind,  and  feeling  my  lonely  condition,  poor  human  nature 
could  refrain  no  longer,  and  I  gave  vent  to  my  sad  feelings 
and  desolate  heart  in  tears.     Would  not  som«*  kind  ])«ts()U 


94  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

have  compassion  on  me  and  give  me  a  home,  or  must  I 
wander  an  exile  from  shore  to  shore  in  vain  ? 

AVliile  thus  lamenting,  a  gentleman  passed  along,  and 
seeing  me  weep,  halted  and  asked  the  cause  of  mj  tears. 
I  told  him  I  was  a  homeless  boy;  had  wandered  many 
miles,  and  that  no  one  wanted  me.  He  bade  me  in  a 
gentle  and  sweet  voice  not  to  despair,  and  invited  me 
home  with   him. 

Upon  arriving  at  his  residence,  the  lady  of  the  house 
offered  me  some  supper.  My  heart  was  too  full  of  grief 
to  eat,  and  she  seeing  I  ate  nothing,  asked  if  I  was  sick. 
I  choked  back  my  feelings  and  told  her  my  great  sorrow. 
Though  I  had  eaten  nothing  all  day,  yet  I  was  not  hun- 
gry. I  craved  a  home.  As  I  saw  those  children  in  that 
home  of  plenty,  beauty  and  comfort,  sweetly  loving  each 
other,  and  so  attentive  to  each  other's  wants,  my  lips 
quivered  and  my  soul  longed  to  be  one  of  them.  The 
lady  seeing  the  tears,  which  I  tried  to  choke  back,  steal- 
ing down  my  cheek,  spoke  kindly  to  me,  and  told  me 
to  be  of  good  ^cheer,  the  good  Lord  would  provide. 
These  words  were  spoken  in  such  a  kind  and  motherly 
way  that  they  entirely  unmanned  me,  and  I  sobbed  like 
a  child.  I  could  not  help  it.  Oh,  how  lonely  and  for- 
saken I  felt!  Could  it  be  possible  I  was  abandoned?  The 
whole  family  gathered  around  me  and  assured  me  they 
would  aid  me  to  a  home. 

In  the  meantime  the  gentleman  had  stepped  out,  and 
presently  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  he  had  found 
a  good  place  for  me.  At  once  the  sunshine  beamed 
through  my  eyes  and  1  quickly  brushed  away  the  tears, 
and  hope  and  expectation  took  the  place  of  depression  and 
despondency.  He  told  me  to  follow  him  and  he  would 
take  me  to  the  house.  This  I  was  glad  to  do,  and,  bowing 
to  the  good  lady,  followed  him  down  the  road  to  a  farm- 
house,   where    he   introduced   me   to   a   pleasant-looking 


PEKSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  95 

farmer  and  his  amiable  wife.  Tliese  peo])le  were  well 
advanced  in  years,  and  I  found  them  to  he  guod-hearted, 
and  they  were  very  kind  and  good  to  me. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  night  spent  with  these  peo- 
ple. I  retired  very  early,  and  though  I  was  tired,  yet  I 
could  not  sleep  for  a  long  time.  There  I  was  in  a  chamber 
all  by  myself,  comfortably  tucked  up  in  a  clean,  fresh  bed 
—  a  real  luxury.  Was  it  possible  that  I  now  had  a  home? 
I  could  hardly  reconcile  myself  to  the  fact.  How  refresh- 
ing was  the  sleep  of  that  night. 

But  I  fail  to  describe  the  strangeness  I  felt  to  be  once 
more  in  a  home.  Oh,  how  my  heart  leaped  for  gratitude! 
At  last,  after  I  had  wandered  from  the  middle  of  July 
to  the  first  of  October,  after  traveling  fourteen  hundred 
miles — from  xVlbany,  Wis.,  to  the  Wisconsin  River,  thence 
buck,  thence  the  long  distance  to  Stephentown — thence 
hither  and  thither  until  within  three  miles  of  Nassau  — 
had  spent  most  of  the  nights  sleeping  in  freight-cars, 
barns,  and  not  a  few  times  in  the  open  air;  had  been 
exposed  to  the  chilly  night  air,  to  cold  rains,  to  exhaustive 
travels,  to.  abuse  from  heartless  railroad  men,  to  hunger, 
to  sufiering  by  sickness  and  disease,  after  all  these  buftet- 
ings,  at  last  I  am  in  a  home.  Does  the  reader  wonder  at 
my  appreciating  its  hallowed  sweets? 

I  did  not  only  have  a  home,  but  I  found  that  I  did  not 
have  to  work  very  hard.  Up  to  this  time,  I  had  been  a 
slave  to  toil  since  landing  on  these  shores.  This  seemed 
strange  enough,  and  I  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  I 
had  become  bo  used  to  being  kicked  and  pounded  and 
shoved  around  that  I  thought  I  must  receive  such  treat- 
ment as  a  matter  of  course.  But  it  was  so  different  here. 
Then  again,  I  was  spoken  to  in  a  kindly  manner.  This 
made  me  so  grateful  that  I  was  constantly  on  the  watch 
ts  anticipate  their  wants.  In  short,  it  seemed  as  if  I  was 
living  in  a  new  world. 


96  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

The  good  old  ladj  was  real  motherly  to  me,  and  doctored 
me  up,  so  I  soon  began  to  look  and  feel  happy.  The  fever 
and  ague  which  had  clung  to  me  all  these  months  was 
broken  up  about  the  middle  of  IS^ovember.  The  wound 
on  my  ankle  also  healed  up,  so  I  became  active  and  full 
of  life — a  real  boy — such  as  I  had  not  been  since  the  days 
of  my  happy  home  upon  the  Rhine. 

There  was  a  defect  in  the  man  of  the  Louse,  a  defect 
I  had  often  seen  in  other,  men,  and  nearer  the  paternal 
roof,  but  my  high  regards,  and  my  gratitude  to  these  folks, 
forbids  me  to  name  it.  God  bless  them!  The  name  of 
the  man  was  Richard  Yanalstine.  Some  twenty  copies  of 
the  Censer  go  into  the  neighborhood  where  I  then  lived, 
and  doubtless  as  the  eyes  fall  on  this  part  of  my  narrative 
many  will  remember  the  events  here  narrated. 

It  would  appear,  from  a  spelling-book  purchased  while 
living  here,  and  which  I  retained  until  after  I  could  write 
and  had  learned  how  time  was  reckoned,  that  the  winter 
•  spent  here  was  1854:-5,  as  I  find  that  written  in  the  book. 
It  is  from  this  date  I  have  been  able  to  establish  the  ap- 
proximate year  in  which  I  was  born,  though  I  have  not 
depended  wholly  upon  it.  But  having  faithfully  compared 
it  with  others  upon  the  books  where  my  father  had  worked, 
I  find  they  agree. 

But  I  was  not  slow  to  show  my  gratitude  for  their  acts 
of  mercy  toward  me,  for  I  was  nimble  on  every  errand. 

Then  the  reader  should  have  seen  me  coming  out  in  my 
new  suits  of  clothes.  He  would  surely  have  thought  I  was 
somebody, — at  least,  I  felt  that  way. 

The  richest  of  all  was,  there  were  two  orchards  upon  the 
farm.  Upon  the  mountain  and  out  West  they  don't  have 
orchards.  But  here  were  two,  and,  of  course,  I  had  all  the 
apples  I  desired,  l^ever,  since  the  days  of  long-ago,  hav- 
ing enjoyed  such  a  luxury,  it  was  sport  for  me  to  climb  the 
trees  and  pick  the  great  red  apples. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  97 

But  the  golden  autunm  days,  with  their  vernal  sun,  gentle 
rains,  clear,  crisp  mornings,  ripening  nuts,  tailing  leaves, 
rich,  changeable  landscapes,  were  crowning  the  year  with 
their  blessings.  At  no  season  of  the  year  has  the  heart  of 
man  more  reasons  for  joy  and  thanksgiving  than  when  the 
bountiful  fruitage  of  the  year  rewards  the  sower  and  the 
reaper  alike,  and  makes  the  heart  sing  for  joy  for  the 
mercies  of  that  God  who  sent  the  sunshine,  the  showers 
and  the  winds,  and  who  has  caused  the 

Valley  and  meadow,  hillside  and  mountain, 
Dearth  of  the  desert,  wealth  of  the  fountain 

to  fill  the  great  granaries  to  overflowing. 

Then  the  field,  the  smooth-cut  meadow,  the  beautiful 
lawn,  varied  hill  and  dale,  the  forest  grandeur,  the  wood- 
land shadows,  the  murmuring  brook,  the  sluggish  river  that 

Lulls  itself  to  sleep, 

all  seem  to  "  clap  their  hands  "  and  '•■  sing  for  joy." 
The  cheerful  looks  of  the  farmer,  the  quiet  enjoyment 

in  the  domestic  circle,  the  festive  gatherings,  "  our  young 

folks  "  with  rosy  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  tell  of  plenty 

and  of  '*  good  times." 

The  full-orbed  moon  lends  her  silvery  light,  as  the  well- 

ehocked  corn  with  golden  ears  aftbrds  pleasure  to  the  busy 

buskers,  while  the  aged  sire  exclaims: 

Come,  my  boys,  come, 
And  merrily  shout  your  harvest  home ! 

All  these  things  I  had  the  privilege  and  pleasure  of  ex- 
periencing in  my  beautiful  home.  Oh,  such  grand  times  as 
we  had  at  husking-bees  under  the  full-orbed  moon,  the 
gathering  of  the  buckwheat,  or  the  going-  to  the  village 
mill,  or  to  the  picnics  in  the  groves,  or  the  gathering  of 
nuts,  or  rambles  through  meadows,  by  the  sides  of  the 
streamlets  or  over  the  hills. 
7 


98  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTEK  XI. 

« 

At  School  for  the  First  Time — Terrors  of  Discovery — 
Fleeing  Again — On  the  Canal — Starving  in  Buffalo 
— On  the  Lake — A  Weary  Journey — Another  Home 
— Burning  the  Bible. 

Full  soon  tlie  vernal  days  of  autumn  gave  place  to  cold 
frosts  and  rains,  and  tempests  wild,  wliich  traversed  moun- 
tain and  plain,  leaving  the  forests  disrobed,  and  desolation 
in  their  track.  But  even  the  storm-king  this  winter  had 
a  grateful  w^elcome,  for  I  was  comfortably  sheltered,  and 
the  glow  of  the  cheerful  fire  and  genial  rays  of  the  even- 
ing lamp  dispelled  all  the  gloom,  drove  away  every  care, 
and  my  soul  was  filled  with  grateful  thoughts  to  Almighty 
God. 

But  to  crown  the  whole,  when  the  district  school  opened, 
the  good  lady  trimmed  me  up  with  another  new  suit  of 
clothes,  filled  a  neat  little  basket  with  a  bountiful  dinner 
and  some  of  the  red  apples  I  had  picked,  and,  with  a  smile, 
said  she  was  going  to  send  her  boy  to  school.  My  heart 
leaped  for  joy  and  my  eyes  sparkled  as  I  thought  of  the 
privilege. 

A  school-boy!  Was  it  possible?  There  was  no  voice 
among  that  group  of  childi-en  as  they  wended  their  way  to 
school  on  that  clear  November  morning  more  merry  than 
mine.  At  school  everything  was  new  to  me.  It  was  true 
I  was  a  big  dunce,  but  I  had  a  disposition  to  learn,  and 
took  hold  with  a  resolute  will.  The  alphabet  was  all  I  re- 
membered of  my  Sabbath-school  instruction;  hence  I  felt 
the  importance  of  improving  this  my  first  opportunity  at 
school.     I  studied  very  diligently,  scarcely  ever  going  out 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  99 

at  recess  or  playing  mure  than  half  an  hour  at  noon.  As 
a  result,  I  made  rapid  progress — read  in  the  third  reader 
before  I  left  school. 

Late  in  the  fall  I  sought  and  obtjxined  permission  to  visit 
my  brother  Peter,  to  let  him  know  of  my  whereabouts.  I 
was  careful  to  enter  the  neighhurhcx^d  after  nightfall  tu 
avoid  being  observed.  From  him  I  learned  that  a  Mr.  Tur- 
ner (if  memory  serves  me),  had  been  to  my  father  to  have 
me  bound  out  to  him.  Mr.  Turner  was  a  wagon  manufac- 
turer, and  a  fine  Christian  gentleman,  and  no  doubt  would 
have  treated  me  well,  for  he  greatly  admired  me  for  my 
industry,  readiness  to  learn,  and  for  my  honesty  and  frank- 
ness. But  I  had  such  a  horror  of  being  bound  out.  I 
loved  freedom.  Give  me  freedom  of  soul  and  body,  or 
give  me  death.  So  I  hastened  to  his  factory,  and  in  excited 
language  told  him  never  to  make  another  attempt  to  secure 
me  by  being  bound  over  to  him  by  my  father,  for  he  would 
not  succeed;  that  he  could  not  force  me  to  live  with  him, 
and  that  I  did  not  thank  him  for  calling  upon  my  father 
for  the  end  of  thus  securincr  me.  He  looked  frreatlv  as- 
tonished  at  my  sudden  and  unexpected  appearance,  and, 
doubtless,  was  equally  astonished  at  my  sudden  departure, 
for,  having  finished  ray  errand,  I  rushed  out  of  his  factory 
and  disappeared,  no  one  knew  where  save  Peter,  who  would 
sooner  die  than  reveal  my  whereabouts. 

I  returned  to  my  place  revolving  the  events  in  my  mind. 
"Wliat  if  my  retreat  should  be  discovered? 

The  winter,  however,  wore  away  without  further  moles- 
tation, and  the  event  had  quite  passed  out  of  my  mind, 
when,  as  I  was  returning  from  school  one  evening,  I  was 
overtaken  by  the  same  Mr.  Turner.  The  cold  chills  ran 
over  me,  and  I  was  horror-stricken  at  being  discovered. 

lie  stopped  his  team  and  talked  a  long  time  with  me. 
He  said  I  liked  Stej)hentown  and  the  Sabbath-school,  and 
that  he  would  send  me  to  the  day-school   if  I  wnuM  come 


100  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and  live  with  him.  But  it  was  of  no  avail.  I  could  not 
be  persuaded  to  go  with  him.  I  dreaded  being  bound  out. 
After  he  left  me,  I  was  exceedingly  uncomfortable.  I  now 
feared  that  father  would  learn  where  1  was.  And  what 
would  he  do  to  me — a  run-a-waj?  I  feared  he  would  whip 
me  within  an  inch  of  mv  life. 

As  I  look  over  this  part  of  mj  life  from  the  standpoint 
of  a  maturer  judgment,  I  think,  had  I  accepted  Mr. 
Turner's  proposition,  I  would  have  received  far  better 
treatment  than  I  received  at  the  hands  of  brutal  men.  I 
had  confidence  in  his  integrity,  and  he  would  have  given 
me  every  advantage  possible  to  improve  my  mind;  besides, 
he  lived  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  dear  old  meeting- 
house on  the  heights  of  West  Stephentown.  But  there 
was  that  ever-present  fear  of  falling  into  father's  hands, 
which  over-ruled  every  other  consideration.  And  it  was 
this  fear  which  led  me  to  take  the  steps  I  did. 

Thus  it  was  not  for  me  to  long  enjoy  the  blessings  of 
a  good  home.  How  could  I  bear  the  thought  of  leaving 
these  good  people?  The  very  idea  was  crushing  to  me. 
It  troubled  me  night  and  day.  But  the  terrible  news  was 
broken  to  me  at  last,  for  one  of  Mrs.  Wait's  sons  informed 
me  that  father  had  learned  of  my  whereabouts  and  was 
coming  after  me. 

Upon  the  announcement  of  this  intelligence  a  tremor  of 
fear  came  over  me,  and  I  thought  father  must  be  so 
enraged  because  I  ran  away  from  home  that,  should  he  be 
able  to  lay  hands  on  me,  he  would  punish  me  with  greater 
severity  than  he  had  ever  before,  and  I  resolved,  though  I 
deeply  regretted  to  give  up  my  happy  home,  to  try  the 
fortunes  of  a  homeless  life,  that  I  might  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  an  unrelenting  father. 

It  was  a  severe  struggle  for  me  to  give  up  my  home  and 
associations,  and  again  try  the  realities  of  the  wide  world. 
However,  it  was  in  my  mind  to  place  myself  beyond  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  101 

reach  of  father;  so  I  set  off  for  the  West  again.  Going  to 
Albany,  I  souglit  a  berth  on  a  canal-boat  as  a  driver, 
hoping  by  this  means  to  earn  enough  tx)  take  nie  across 
the  lakes. 

This  was  the  roughest  place  I  ever  was  in.  There  was 
no  regard  for  the  Sabbath,  nor  sympathy  for  man  or  beast. 
And  a  boy  liad  to  fight  his  way.  Sunshine  or  rain,  cold  or 
heat,  I  had  to  be  on  the  tow-path,  and  not  unfrequently 
was  I  knocked  into  the  canal  or  down  the  embankment  bv 
drivers  coming  in  the  opposite  direction,  when  right  of 
''  tight-rope"  was  questioned.  The  reader  will  understand 
that  two  boats  meeting  each  other,  it  was  the  duty  of  one 
to  drop  the  tow-line  into  the  water,  so  that  the  boat  could 
pass  over  the  line,  and  this  was  done  by  slacking  the  speed 
of  the  team.  AVhen  new  boys — green  hands — enter  upon 
the  tow-path,  the  experienced  ones  would  often  make 
them  drop  the  line,  when  by  the  rules  it  was  their  own 
duty  to  drop  the  line. 

The  first  day  out  it  rained  very  hard,  and  there  was  not 
a  dry  thread  on  my  person.  I  usually  had  to  get  up  at 
3  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  not  unfrequently  drive  until 
10  or  11  o'clock  at  night.  I  was  so  deprived  of  sleep  that 
I  could  scarcely  open  my  eyes  when  I  was  called  in  the 
morning.  But  whenever  I  failed  to  get  up,  a  pail  of 
cold  water  poured  into  my  bunk,  usually  started   me. 

At  several  places  along  the  route,  I  was  urged  into 
disgraceful  fights,  and  usually  came  off  worsted — I  never 
made  any  claims  to  fighting — but  here  it  was  a  necessity. 
Quite  a  number  of  times  I  was  pitched  into  the  canal, 
where  I  had  to  swim  for  very  life.  These  abuses  were 
practiced  for  the  amusement  of  my  superiors.  Doubtless 
other  bo3'8  met  the  same  usage.  Some  looked  even  rougher 
than  I  did. 

I  drove  from  Albany  to  Hawkinsville,  N.  Y.  I  do  not 
sufficiently  remember  the  names  of  the  branches  of  canals, 


102  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

after  leaving  the  Erie,  which  was  at  Rome,  'N.  Y.,  to  give 
them.  I  made  two  trips  from  Hawkinsviile  to  Utica,  IST. 
Y.,  and  I  must  say  that  of  all  the  mountainous  country 
traveled  by  me,  it  was  found  about  tw^o  days  out  from 
Rome  in  the  direction  of  Hawkinsviile. 

I  was  to  receive  eight  dollars  a  month.  So,  at  Rome, 
the  second  time  up,  and  after  driving  for  two  months  and 
a  half,  I  thought  I  had  enough  money  to  take  me  across 
the  lakes,  but  great  was  my  surprise  when,  upon  asking 
the  captain  for  my  pay,  he  refused  to  give  it  to  me,  and  I 
lost  all.  From  Rome  I  drove  on  another  boat  to  Buffalo, 
but  received  nothing  for  my  services.  Of  all  the  places, 
the  canal  is  the  worst  a  boy  can  fall  upon. 

I  should  mention  that  on  this  trip  my  brother  Peter 
accompanied  me,  as  he  firmly  resolved  to  try  his  fortune 
with  me,  and  he  suffered  the  same  as  myself.  We  arrived 
at  Buffalo  early  in  the  morning,  but  no  boat  for  Detroit 
left  Buffalo  until  8  o'clock  p.  m.  We  had  eight  cents, 
which  purchased  one  loaf  of  bread  and  three  cookies. 
And  these  were  to  last  us  for  that  day  and  on  the  trip 
across  the  lake.  "We  had -been  driving  all  night,  and  were 
hungry  when  discharged — and  this  without  breakfast  or 
our  wages.  Of  the  three  cookies,  I  gave  two  to  Peter  and 
ate  one  myself,  saving  the  loaf  for  the  trip  on  lake  Erie. 
Oh,  what  a  long  day  it  was !  Peter  cried  for  very  hunger, 
and  I  could  have  done  the  same.  While  we  were  leaning 
up  against  a  building,  Peter's  eyes  red  with  weeping,  an 
Irishman,  passing  by,  asked  what  was  the  matter.  I  told 
him  we  were  starving.  Upon  this  he  gave  us  five  cents, 
and,  after  thanking  him  gratefully,  I  hastened  to  purchase 
a  loaf  of  bread  with  it.  And  such  a  feast  as  we  had  !  We 
did  not  need  any  butter  to  make  it  go  down. 

At  length  the  hour  arrived.  Nothing  daunted,  we  went 
aboard  a  steamer  bound  for  Detroit,  purposed  in  mind 
to  tell  the  man  who  collected  the  fare,  that  we  had  been 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  103 

wronged  out  of  our  wages;  ])ut  to  our  astonishment,  no 
one  ever  troubled  us.  From  Detroit  we  set  out  on  foot 
for  Chicago.  After  leaving  Detroit  we  sat  by  the  side  of 
the  railroad,  faint  with  hunger.  But  we  resolved  to  beg. 
The  first  night  we  slept  in  a  "  water-tank."  The  next  day 
we  obtained  a  ride  on  a  freight-train  to  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 
In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Jackson,  Mich.  From  here 
some  kind  conductor  of  a  freif^ht-train  carried  us  to  Mar- 
shall.  Here,  l)ecause  we  were  found  in  the  morning  sleep- 
ing in  an  empty  freight-car,  we  were  locked  into  it  and 
kept  there  till  noon  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  heartless 
passers-by.  Then  we  had  long  weary  travels,  arriving  at 
Niles,  Mich.,  about  4  o'clock  on  a  Sabbath.  Here  a  kind 
landlord — God  bless  him — gave  us  a  bountiful  supper. 
They  must  have  excellent  people  in  Niles.  We  have 
always  remembered  the  kindness. 

Somebody  told  us  to  get  aboard  the  emigrant  train  which 
would  be  along  in  the  night,  and  as  it  made  long  runs 
without  stopping,  we  would  be  carried  some  distance  before 
being  put  off.  AVe  followed  out  the  suggestion.  But,  no 
sooner  on  board,  than  a  sleeping  Dutchman,  arousing  from 
his  nap,  grasped  the  little  bundle  from  Peter's  arms,  whicli 
contained  our  united  worldly  goods,  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  his,  and  that  we  had  stolen  it  from  him.  But, 
with  true  grit,  Peter  hung  on.  However,  the  Dutchman 
was  stronger  than  us  both,  as  I  turned  a  helping  hand 
when  I  saw  our  worldly  eflects  in  danger,  and  the  hand- 
kerchief was  torn  to  shreds,  and  its  contents  strewn  over 
the  car  floor. 

We  were  put  off  the  train  at  some  station  the  name  of 
which  I  do  not  remember.  At  Michigan  City,  Ind.,  a  kind 
lady  gave  us  a  bountiful  supper.  We  traveled  two  days 
more  on  foot,  when,  from  sonje  way  stiition,  we  obtained  a 
ride  to  Chicago.  Here,  as  everywhere  else  along  the  route, 
we  made  a  freight-car  our  sleeping  quarters. 


104  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

From  Chicago  we  rode  to  Turner's  Junction,  111.,  on  the 
bumper  of  a  rear  car  of  a  freight- ti-ain.  From  this  place 
we  footed  it  to  Elgin.  Here  we  spent  half  a  day  in  resting, 
when,  going  to  sleep  in  a  freight-car,  we  woke  up  the  next 
morning  in  Freeport,  111.  During  the  night  I  thought  the 
car  was  in  motion,  but  was  so  sleepy  and  tired  that  I  did  not 
realize  it.  It  appears  that  a  freight-train  took  the  car  during 
the  night.  As  soon  as  we  learned  where  we  were,  we  left 
the  railroad  and  went  across  the  country  in  a  northeasterly 
direction,  and,  after  a  long  walk,  we  each  of  us  found  homes 
west  of  Magnolia,  and  about  two  miles  southeast  of  Albany, 
Wis.,  and  about  four  or  five  miles  from  my  former  home. 

We  had  undergone  such  hardships  that  we  were  quite 
sick.  Having  so  often  been  deprived  of  food  and  sleep, 
the  return  to  civilized  life  was  more  than  our  enfeebled 
frames  could  stand.  The  feelings  endured  were  something- 
similar  to  those  experienced  by  shipwreck.  Our  stomachs 
were  not  strong  enough  to  take  solid  food.  !N^either  we 
nor  the  people  knew  this,  hence  it  went  pretty  hard  with 
us.  It  seems  that  I  was  reduced  the  most,  for  I  was  sub- 
ject to  fearful  vomitings  for  several  days,  and  was  deadly 
sick  at  my  stomach.  All  this,  I  was  told,  was  the  result 
of  being  deprived  of  food.  We  suffered  very  much  the 
whole  journey  for  the  want  of  food. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  we  were  on  this  trip,  but  when 
we  left  the  East  it  was  shortly  after  the  canal  opened,  and 
when  we  arrived  here  it  was  almost  past  harvest. 

I  cannot  describe  the  sensations  I  experienced  in  the 
'change — in  having  three  meals  a  day  and  nights  of  undis- 
turbed sleep.  It  was  all  so  different  frbm  the  canal -boat, 
the  tow  path,  and  the  rumbling  of  railway  trains. 

But  there  was  another  chapter  in  human  experience  which 
I  had  not  learned,  nor  did  I  ever  dream  of  doing  such 
things  as  I  did  while  in  this  home.  It  turned  out  that 
these    people  were  infidels,  and  they  soon  succeeded  in 


PERSONAL    RKCOLLECTION8.  105 

Bhaming  me  out  of  my  religious  iu»])res6iou6,  l>y  ridiculing 
everything  of  a  moral  nature,  and  by  encouraging  me  in 
all  kinds  of  wickedness.  The  Sabbaths  were  spent  in  such 
amusements  as  the  seasons  offere<l.  One  Sunday  a  minis- 
ter— and  ministers  I  was  especially  instructed  to  hate — 
was  on  his  way  to  some  ap]>ointment,  wlien,  meeting  me 
in  tlic  midst  of  my  Sabbath-breaking,  he  stopped  and  talked 
with  me  a  long  time  in  regard  to  my  wicked  action.^.  I 
answered  all  of  his  questions  in  the  most  impudent  man- 
ner possible.  In  conclusion,  lie  said  that  bad  boys  always 
came  to  a  bad  end.  I  replied  by  asking  him  if  it  was  any 
of  his  business  if  I  did  come  to  a  bad  end. 

I  have  the  pleasure  of  informing  the  reader  that  this 
very  minister  is  now  a  subscriber  to  the  Goldkn  Censer, 
and  has  called  upon  me  at  the  office.  He  also  knows  all 
about  that  part  of  my  history  narrated  in  chapters  eight 
and  nine.  His  name  is  J.  J.  Johnson,  and  he  is  a  minister 
in  the  Church  of  the  United  Brethren,  and  lives  at  Eleroy, 
111.,  and  he  it  is  who  requested  Hon.  J.  H.  Vinton,  of  Broad- 
head,  Wis.,  to  call  on  me. 

I  had  become  so  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  these  folks, 
that  I  thought  it  was  of  no  use  to  keep  that  Bible  which 
the  kind  lady  had  presented  to  me  at  Sabbath-school,  any 
longer — especially  if  it  was  full  of  lies — so  I  tore  it  in 
pieces,  and  was  in  the  act  of  plunging  it  into  the  flames 
when  a  lady,  seeing  me  in  the  desperate  act,  rushed  up  and 
wrested  it  from  me.  I  was  sincere  in  this  act.  I  believed 
evervthine:  that  was  told  me,  and  1  thouo'ht  I  was  doinor 
right. 

Oh,  ha])py  is  the  youth  who  has  a  kind  father  and  a 
loving  mother  to  shield  him  from  the  powers  of  infidelity 
and  sin  I  Oh,  how  many  poor,  homeless  boys  are  ruined 
for  the  want  of  proper  influence  and  guidance. 


106  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THEorGH  Floods — Facing  a  Stokm — A  Good  Lady — An- 
other Home — Better  Days — News  of  the  Death  of 
MY  Mother  and  Two  Brothers. 

But  this  was  not  a  happv  home  for  me.  The  man  was 
so  oppressive  and  unreasonable  that  I  ran  away.  There 
having  been  much  snow  during  the  winter,  the  recent  heavy 
rains  had  swollen  the  streams  and  flooded  the  prairies  to 
such  a  degree  that  I  found  my  flight  almost  impossible. 
Sometimes  the  roads  were  so  filled  with  water  that  I  had 
to  walk  fences,  and  where  there  were  no  fences,  wade 
through  ice-water  knee-deep.  But  I  was  bound  to  make 
my  escape,  if  I  had  to  swim.  Passing  Broadhead,  I  wan- 
dered out  on  the  prairie  south,  which  at  that  time  was 
almost  uninhabited.  There  were  no  houses,  nor  fences, 
nor  roads,  and  every  now  and  then  I  had  to  wade  through 
a  flood  of  water.  The  sun  going  down,  and  the  atmosphere 
becoming  much  colder,  I  became  alarmed,  for  I  was  wet 
•  through,  and  my  clothes  began  to  freeze  on  my  person. 
To  the  right  the  lowlands  of  Sugar  Kiver  were  a  sea  of  ice 
and  water.  At  length  I  saw  a  friendly  light  about  four 
miles  distant,  and  I  resolved  to  make  my  way  to  it.  After 
wading  nearly  half  of  the  distance  through  water,  I  arrived, 
almost  chilled  with  the  cold  and  wet.  The  good  people 
took  me  in,  cared  for  me  that  night,  and  in  the  morning 
invited  me  to  stay  until  the  water  receded. 

After  three  days-  delay  I  set  out  to  find  a  new  home.  In 
the  evening  of  that  day  I  arrived  in  Beloit,  weary,  hungry 
and  discouraged,  for  I  had    been  unsuccessful    that  day. 


PKHSt^NAL    RKCOLLECTIONS.  107 

The  following  inoriiii)g,  tailirii^  to  find  a  home  in  Ik'loit,  I 
wandered  southward.  The  day  was  very  nnoonifortahle, 
tor  there  was  a  high  southeast  wind  accoinpanif^l  with  snow 
and  sleet,  and  the  pelting  snow  beat  into  my  face  all  day. 
In  the  course  of  time  I  arrived  at  Belvidere,  and  beiiiir 
tired,  cold,  wet,  and  hungry,  I  went  into  the  depot  to  warm 
myself.  While  sitting  by  the  stove,  pensive  and  weary,  a 
little  boy  came  in,  who,  seeing  how  depressed  I  was,  asked 
if  1  had  a  home.  I  replied  that  I  was  liomeless.  Upon 
this  he  invited  me  to  accompany  him  to  his  house.  When 
we  arrived,  he  told  his  mother,  Mrs.  Raymond,  that  he  found 
me  at  the  depot  weeping,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  keep 
me  for  the  night.  She  smiled  and  told  me  to  come  in. 
She  was  very  kind  and  sympathetic;  gave  me  a  bountiful 
supper,  and  said  she  would  find  a  home  for  me.  The  next 
day  one  of  her  sons,  being  a  grain  merchant,  heard  of  a 
place  two  miles  west  of  the  city.  He  went  with  me  to  see 
the  man.  Mr.  William  Swardwood  agreed  to  take  me  for 
one  year,  promising  me  seven  dollars  a  month  during  the 
working  months,  and  schooling  during  the  winter. 

The  man  with  whom  I  went  to  live  was  a  Methodist 
This  was  the  first  Christian  family  it  had  ever  been  my  for- 
tune to  live  with.  The  man,  it  is  true,  was  one  of  those  Chris- 
tians who  never  read  the  Bible  or  prayed  in  his  family ;  he  had 
an  excellent  wife,  however,  who  was  a  real  mother  to  me. 
The  man  was  firm,  sometimes  harsh.  When  he  told  me  to 
do  anything,  I  might  just  as  well  obey,  for  there  were  no 
^'ifs"  in  the  case.  But,  on  the  whole,  I  had  as  good  a  home 
as  I  could  reasonably  expect.  As  fast  as  I  earned  the 
means  I  clothed  myself  up  and  attended  church  and  Sab- 
bath-school regularly,  and  life  began  to  present  a  more 
sunny  side.  Though  I  had  to  work  hard — and  this  I  was 
willing  to  do — yet  the  good  lady  treated  me  kindly,  gave 
me  right  instructioTis,  taking  great  pains  in  having  me  form 
correct  habits,  and  keeping  me  neat  and  clean.     She  had 


108  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

SO  far  succeeded  in  restraining  me  in  the  use  of  profane 
and  vulgar  language,  and  in  instilling  right  principles  into 
my  mind,  that  during  the  summer  and  autumn  I  attended 
a  young  people's  prayer-meeting,  which  had  a  wholesome 
influence  over  me,  and  made  a  lasting  impression  for  good. 
Oh,  how  much  I  owe  to  this  good  woman  in  forming  a 
Christian  character!  She  had  unbounded  confidence  in 
me,  and  whenever  I  did  make  a  mistake,  she  always  would 
overlook  it  and  kindly  say,  "  Never  mind  it;  we  all  make 
mistakes." 

My  nature  is  such  that  harshness  always  repels  me  from 
those  who  have  exercised  it  over  me,  making  me  feel 
depressed  and  gloomy,  for  I  never  cherished  revenge,  but 
when  one  spoke  kindly  to  me,  rhen  my  heart  would  pulsate 
warmly  towards  such,  and  my  life  was  sunlight.  Isow  this 
good  woman  had  the  peculiar  gift  of  appealing  to  my 
heart — to  my  manhood.  I  was  awkward  and  uncouth, 
and  yet  she  never  magnified  my  faults,  but  always 
set  before  me  the  good  qualities.  And  this  is  the 
secret  spring  of  all  good.  I  have  somewhere  read  of  a 
criminal  in  prison  being  visited  by  one  minister  after 
another,  who  came  in  all  the  Pharisaical  dignity  of  their 
office,  and  coldly  talked  at  him,  telling  him  what  a  great 
sinner  he  was.  But  one  day  a  minister  called  upon  him 
in  whose  very  face  love  beamed,  and  in  his  tone  sympathy 
flowed,  and  instead  of  saying,  "I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
here,"  opened  his  conversation  by  saying,  "What  a  mercy 
it  is  that  2ve  poor  sinners  are  on  mercy's  side  of  the 
grave."  This  entered  the  heart  of  the  poor  heart-broken 
prisoner.  Here  was  one  man — a  minister,  who  confessed 
himself  a  sinner,  and  the  chord  of  sympathy  was  struck, 
and  the  heart  opened  its  door.  It  is  this  kind,  gentle 
spirit  that  won  me  from  my  infidel  notions.  Ah,  noble 
reader,  learn  a  lesson  in  this.  God  knows  we  all  have  our 
burdens  of  sorrow  to  bear,  and  a  smile,  a  kind  word,  a  bow, 


PERSONAL    RKCOLLKCnoNS.  109 

a  look  of  recognition,  uii  act  of  mercy,  may  save  a  soul 
from  giving  up  in  the  struggle  of  life.  Let  us  cultivate 
sympathy,  for  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  God-like 
emotions,  or  as  we  may  say,  qualities,  of  the  heart.  It  is 
a  fountain  in  the  soul,  jetting  forth  those  sprays  of  love 
for  our  fallen  race,  that  makes  green  the  valleys  of  earth, 
and  Ciiuses  the  harren  desert  to  bloom.  Tiiere  is  a  power 
in  sympatln'  which  will  move  the  iron  heart  when  all 
other  instrumentalities  fail.  It  melts  down  the  fritrid  ice- 
bergs  that  are  found  along  the  voyage  of  life.  You  may 
reason  with  fallerl  and  depraved  man,  and  show  to  a  demon- 
stration that  he  is  a  sinner,  yet  his  heart  will  be  as  unyield- 
ing as  a  rock,  and  your  arguments  be  wasted  on  the  desert 
air.  But  go  to  him  with  your  heart  swelling  and  all  aglow 
with  tender  sympathy,  and  enter  into  his  fallen  condition; 
sympathize  with  him  as  an  eternity-bound  brother;  plead 
with  him  in  kind,  loving  words,  and  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  you  will  break  up  the  fountains  of  his  very  being  and 
win  him  to  Christ. 

This  trait  was  very  largely  developed  in  the  life  of  our 
Savior.  Behold  him  feeding  the  starving  thousands,  heal- 
ing the  sick,  restoring  the  blind,  giving  life  to  the  dead; 
in  short,  his  almost  every  act  was  pervaded  with  sympathy. 
Some  think  it  unmanly  to  weep,  but  the  weeping  Christian 
has  this  consolation,  that  it  is  Christ-like.  Behold,  as  Jesus 
stands  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  his  great  heart  throbbing 
with  emotion  and  the  pearly  tears  falling  from  his  eyes  to 
the  ground.  Does  he  weep  for  the  bereft  sisters?  ^'ot al- 
together that,  certainly,  for  he  was  about  to  restore  to  them 
their  dear  brother.  His  tears  floweil  in  behalf  of  the  blind 
and  bigoted  Jews  who  had  assembled  there.  His  heart 
was  moved  in  sympathy  for  those  to  whom  he  would  gladly 
have  given  life  eternal. 

Who  can  ever  forget  the  tears  and  sympathetic  words  ot 
a  kind,  praying  mother?     The  grass  may  be  green  over  her 


110  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

lonely  grave  in  the  churchyard ;  flowers  may  have  bloomed 
and  withered  with  the  coming  and  waning  years  upon  her 
resting-place,  but  her  influence  will  never  die,  her  prayers 
never  be  lost,  her  sympathetic  and  noble  counsel  never  fade 
from  the  memory.  Oh,  precious  sympathy ;  how  it  sustains 
the  burdened  soul  and  helps  to  build  up  a  pure  and  holy 
life. 

Sympathy,  like  every  other  emotion  of  the  heart,  can  be 
cultivated,  and  the  objects  of  its  exercise  are  manifold.  Go 
where  you  will,  and  you  can  perform  the  kindly  office  of 
the  good  Samaritan.  The  child  of  poverty  claims  your 
kindness,  the  unfortunate  and  friendless  your  love,  the  fallen 
and  disgraced  your  forgiving  look;  in  short,  bleeding  hu- 
manity as  it  passes  onward  to  the  yawning  grave,  in  piteous 
agony  extends  to  you  a  cry  for  sympathy.  A  symathizing 
heart  is  the  secret  power  of  all  successful  philanthropists, 
and  ministers  of  the  gospel  especially  should  cultivate  it, 
and  seek  to  infuse  its  spirit  into  the  people  among  whom 
thev  live  and  labor. 

Sympathy  is  permanent  as  well  as  salutary  in  its  eflfect. 
The  lofty  mountains  may  decay,  the  flinty  granite  dissolve, 
the  mighty  ocean  ascend  the  sky  in  vapor,  or  the  earth 
pass  away  like  a  phantom,  yet  the  influence  which  sympa- 
thy exerts  over  immortal  souls  will  be  eternal.  Its  bene- 
ficial effects  will  reach  into  the  coming  world,  and  those 
who  were  drawn  up  out  of  the  haunts  of  vice  and  the  pit 
of  destruction  will  make  the  heavens  vocal  with  thanks- 
giving and  praise  to  the  King  of  Glory. 

Seek,  then,  gentle  reader,  this  gracious  emotion  of  the 
heart,  and  let  its  light  shine  out  in  your  life.  Go,  in  the 
spirit  of  Jesus,  like  an  angel  of  mercy  to  those  who  crave 
your  love;  kiss  away  the  falling  tear  from  sorrow's  cheek, 
and  angels  will  record  your  noble  deeds  in  the  Lamb's 
Book  of  Life,  and   the  dear  sympathizing  Savior  himself 


PKR80NAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  Ill 

will  welcome  you  to  the  ''evergreen  shores'* — the  home  of 
the  redeemed. 

Surrounded  with  these  hallowed  and  restraining  influ- 
ences, the  summer  and  autumn  days  passed  quietly  and 
pleasantly  away.  Winter  again  returning,  I  was  permitted 
to  go  to  school  once  more.  Here  I  learned  to  write,  and 
as  soon  as  I  felt  competent  enough  to  write  a  letter,  I  did 
so,  writing  it  to  my  dear  good  friend,  Mrs.  Laura  H.  Wait, 
West  Stephentown,  N.  Y.  In  due  time  it  brought  a 
resj>onse.  But  oh!  how  sad  the  intelligence,  for  it  an- 
nounced the  death  of  my  dear  mother,  the  sweet  baby 
which  siv^ter  Mary  was  so  tenderly  tending  on  that  after- 
noon on  which  I  left  home,  and  my  youngest  brother 
Joseph,  a  boy  of  but  four  or  five  summers.  Oh,  how  heav- 
ily the  sad  news  sank  into  my  poor  heart!  For  the  first 
time  had  the  grim  messenger  of  death  entered  our  family 
circle,  and  in  that  visit,  selected  three  of  the  fairest  flowers 
and  transplanted  them  to  the  evergreen  shore — in  the  par- 
adise of  immortality.  What  a  strange  feeling  came  over 
me!  Was  it  possible  that  I  should  never,  oh,  never  see 
my  dear  mother  again?  Oh,  could  I  only  have  received 
her  dying  blessingj  could  I  have  felt  her  loving  hand  upon 
my  head,  and  heard  her  encouraging  me  to  look  toward 
that  home  to  which  she  was  going;  could  I  only  have  been 
permitted  to  plant  the  flowers  of  springtime  over  her 
grave,  it  were  well!  Alas!  even  these  were  denied  me. 
On  the  mountain,  where  the  winds  weep  through  the 
hemlock  and  the  pine,  are  three  grass-covered  graves,  and 
the  golden  leaves  of  each  returning  autumn  fall  noiselessly 
over  them,  and  the  rain,  falling  on  the  crisp  foliage,  sighs 
a  mournful  story  how  she  died  of  a  broken  heart;  how  she 
wept  over  her  children  and  would  not  be  comforted  because 
they  were  not;  how  neglect  and  cruelty  had  laid  in  the  cold 
chambers  of  death  her  two  latest  born.     Oh,  sigh  X)n,  yo 


112  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

wild  winds  of  tlie  mountain !  Eternity  can  only  reveal  wliat 
it  does  not  become  me  to  write  here. 

I  was  so  overcome  that  I  could  not  study,  for  as  often  as 
the  thought  recurred  to  my  mind  I  would  hnrst  into  a  flood 
of  tears.  All  was  dark  and  lonely,  and  in  this  sad  hour  I 
could  not  "refrain  my  voice  from  weeping."  I  could  not 
play  with  the  other  children  at  recess,  nor  eat  my  dinners, 
for  the  merry  laugh  and  innocent  glee  of  the  school- 
room only  added  sadness  to  my  sorrowing  heart. 

The  bitter  sorrows,  heartaches,  sighings  to  look  upon  the 
sweet  face  of  mother  once  more,  led  me  to  think  of  heaven 
and  heavenly  associations ;  of  that  realm  of  light  where  is 
known  no  sorrow,  nor  death,  nor  night;  of  that  beautiful 
city,  home  of  the  angels,  abode  of  God,  whose  streets  only 
by  the  sinless  are  trod.  Truly  my  life  had  been  one  of 
tears,  but  now  my  light  had  suddenly  gone  out,  and  it  was 
dark — oh,  so  dark !  The  weary  traveler  up  life's  steep  and 
rugged  mountain,  covered  with  sweat  and  dust,  thirsting 
and  hungering,  his  eyes  often  suifused  with  tears,  and  his 
body  racked  with  pain  and  sufiering,  is  wont  to  imagine 
whether  there  is  anything  better  beyond,  and  as  the  dash- 
ing of  the  river  at  the  boundary  of  the  land  falls  upon  his 
ear  he  anxiously  inquires.  How  will  it  be  beyond  the  river? 
Is  there  no  better  land  beyond  yon  swelling  stream  ?  Oh, 
is  there  truly  a  rest  remaining  for  the  good  in  the  long, 
long  forever?  When  I  pass  across  the  mist  that  rises  from 
the  river,  shall  I  rest  where  there  is  sunshine  without  a 
shadow,  employment  without  fatigue,  perpetual  youth  with- 
out old  age,  and  joy  without  a  tear?  Tell  me,  inhabitants 
of  eternity  who  have  dwelt  near  the  great  white  throne  for 
ages  past,  ye  white-winged  angels  that  never  sinned,  is 
there  rest  for  the  weary  in  the  land  beyond  the  blue?  Do 
they  live  forever  on  your  side  of  the  river  ?  Are  the 
inhabitants  never  sick,  but  always  happy  there?  The 
answer  comes  back  from  one  of  the  elders:      There  is  no 


PERSONAL    KE<'OLLECriON8.  \{.*j 

night  here.  No  sun  lights  on  the  inhaljitiints  here;  and 
thej  hunger  no  more,  neitlier  thirst  any  more,  ^Mbr  the 
Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  sliall  feed  them, 
and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  water:  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes.'* 

"The  world  above  is  not  like  this — 

So  dark,  so  sad,  and  drear ; 
Oh,  no,  for  there  the  years  of  bliss 

Koll  on  withoui  a  tear."" 

A  land  without  a  tear,  exempt  from  causes  of  sorrow, 
and  without  want,  every  desire  perfectly  tilled,  infinitely 
supplied,  is  a  thought  full  of  richest  consolation  and  joy 
to  the  tired  and  foot-sore  traveler  in  life.     To  him 

"Sweet  fields  be3'()nd  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green.'' 

And  his  heart  and  his  treasures  are  there.  He  looks  up 
with  joy  and  sings  as  he  trudges  on  toward  the  river, 
"There's  a  better  day  coming,"  and  "  I  soon  shall  be  done 
with  darkness  forever.  There  remains  for  me  light  and 
pleasure  without  ceasing  when  I  get  home.  And  home  is 
not  afar  off;  I  soon  shall  be  there." 

In  heaven  are  no  such  scenes,  heart-aching,  heart-lacerat- 
ing. Death  dispeoples  none  of  its  mansions,  diminishes 
none  of  its  loving  groups,  robes  in  mourning  none  of  its 
inmates.  In  that  world  the  shroud,  the  undertaker,  the 
hearse,  the  sad  procession, the  cemetery  are  unknown.  What 
a  world,  without  graves,  funerals,  tolling-bells,  obituaries, 
records  of  mortality — how  different  from  this!  There  is 
eternal  life.  Connections  there,  friendships  there,  are  in- 
separable. Not  a  ligament  which  there  binds  heart  to  heart 
shall  ever  be  ruptured,  ever  weakened. 

This  life  is  a  repetition,  in  some  form,  of  griefs  and 
troubles.  Like  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  they  follow  one 
8 


114  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

another  witli  only  brief  intervals.  Tears  repressed  to-daj 
burst  their  confines  to-morrow.  But  when  we  reach  that 
heavenly  rest,  our  struggles,  and  perils,  and  sorrows  are 
ended.  Oh,  for  more  frequent  and  sweet,  refreshing  views 
of  that  blissful  land  where  all  tears  of  affliction  shall  be 
wiped  away  I 

How  true  it  is  that  God's  people,  however  dear  to  him 
as  elected,  redeemed,  regenerated,  adopted  as  heirs,  educa- 
ted, provided  for,  preserved,  are  not  in  this  life  exempted 
from  personal  troubles.  "  Many  are  the  afflictions  of  the 
riofhteous."  "  Through  much  tribulation  "  thev  '*  enter 
into  thekinofdom  of  God."  But,  blessed  thouo^htl  "There 
is  no  more  curse.  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there;  and 
they  need  no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun;  for  the  Lord 
God  giveth  them  light.and  they  shall  reign  forever  and  ever." 
Light  springs  up  in  the  grave,  and  tears  are  wiped  from 
their  faces  "wdth  the  thought  that  there  is  a  better  land  over 
the  way,  and  that  they  soon  shall  rest  there,  safe  at  home. 

What  a  thought!  A  land  without  a  cloud,  and  without 
a  tear;  life  without  a  pain,  and  no  death-step  upon  its  track. 
To  drink  with  ravishing  joys  immortal  pleasure,  with  wings 
to  transport  through  all  the  works  of  God  and  look  into 
the  mystery  of  eternity,  with  all  its  unseen  wonders  and 
pleasures,  will  be  quite  enough  for  the  soul  all  saved,  and 
the  body  all  purified  during  endless  years. 

Thank  God  for  a  home  beyond  the  river  for  all  the  good 
and  pure.  May  we  all  pass  the  river  in  triumph,  and  rest 
forever  in  the  home  of  the  soul  "  over  there,"  where 

They  roam  tlirougli  the  gardens  of  endless  spring, 
They  crowd  all  thy  portals  on  rushing  wing ; 
While  the  echoing  domes  of  the  palace  ring 
With  the  hymns  of  the  angels  that  shout  and  sing. 

The  life-fires  brighten  and  burn  and  roll 
Over  diamonds  that  sparkle,  o'er  sands  of  gold, 
Where  to  breathe  the  sweet  air  yields  a  bliss  untold, 
Ard  the  dwellers  immortal  shall  never  grow  old. 


PEIiSONAL    KEOOLLECTIONS.  115 

I  have  heard  in  the  ciiy  they  wait  lor  me; 

ITiat  its  gHtes  stand  open  wide  and  free, 

That  the  ransomed  the  King  in  his  beauty  may  see. 

And  live  in  his  presence  el^Tnally. 

Beautiful  city  I 
In  royal  sUite  blest  mansions  wait, 
And  beckon  on  through  the  pearly  gate. 

I  shall  go  where  the  summers  will  always  bloom; 

I  shall  walk  no  more  amid  trial  and  gloom; 

I  shall  bid  farewell  to  the  withering  tombs; 

1  shall  deck  my  brow  with  the  conqueror's  plumes. 

Beautiful  city! 
Let  me  enter  in  a  crown  to  win ! 
Our  words  but  half  tell  of  the  glory  witliiii 


1 1  6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

In  Rockford  the  First  Time — A  Mean  Man — Swindled 
OUT  OF  MY  Wages — Discouraged — Seeking  Another 
Home — Better  Results — A  Good  Old  Man — Living  in 
a  Universalist  Family — On  the  Farm — A  Xew  Ex- 
perience— Bad  Luck — On  the  Farm  again — Another 
Misfortune — Weeping  for  yery  Sympathy,  and  there 
WAS  IS^oNE  to  Pity. 

I  was  now  a  motherless  boj,  far  from  her  final  resting- 
place,  and  more  than  ever  did  I  feel  that  I  was  abandoned 
and  alone  in  the  world.  Added  to  this  there  were  unan- 
ticipated trials  before  me,  for,  about  two  weeks  after  re- 
ceiving the  intelligence  of  my  mother's  death,  the  school 
closed,  and  the  man  with  whom  I  lived,  not  wishing  to  hire 
me  another  year,  told  me  to  find  another  place.  I  would 
fain  have  remained,  but  could  not  help  it ;  go  I  must. 

This  was  March  1,  185S,  and  a  bitter  cold  day  it  was.  I 
requested  Mr.  Swartwood,  as  there  were  yet  twenty  dollars 
due,  to  pay  me.  He  said  he  could  not  as  he  had  no  money 
with  him.  Once  more  I  must  go  out  into  the  cold  and 
friendless  world,  the  very  thought  of  which  crushed  me. 
As  I  traveled  over  the  prairies  looking  for  a  home  the 
northern  blasts  almost  lifted  me  from  the  ground.  All  day 
I  looked  in  vain.  In  the  evening  I  arrived  in  Pockford, 
cold,  tired,  hungry,  and  discouraged. 

Having  no  money,  I  asked  at  private  residences  the  privi- 
lege of  staying  for  the  night,  but  being  refused  I  was  about 
giving  up  in  despair  when  I  found  a  place  in  the  south- 
western part  of  the  city,  west  of  Winnebago  street  and 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  1  1  7 

>oiith  of  the  railroad.  But  tlie  witu  jiikI  tlie  children 
— two  iii  number — were  sick.  I  did  not  discover  this  at 
tirst.  Bein*^  too  bashful  to  back  out,  I  accepted  the  situa- 
tion. It  being  past  supper-time,  and  I  being  too  bashful 
to  ask,  went  without  anything  to  eat.  When  bed-time 
arrived,  to  my  discomfiture  I  learned  that  1  would  have  to 
sleep  in  the  same  bed  with  the  sick  children.  I  was  dis- 
tressed. I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  fur  I  was  now  without 
a  home,  without  friends,  and  without  money,  and  [thought, 
-hould  I  contract  some  disease  it  would  go  hard  with  me. 
"^o  I  made  believe  that  I  wanted  to  go  out,  and  taking  my 
comforter  and  hat  started  for  the  door.  Once  out,  I  started 
for  parts  unknown.  Just  then  I  heard  the  night  train  ap- 
proaching the  city,  and  the  thought  flashed  into  my  mind 
that  I  would  go  to  Belvidere,  so  I  started  full  6j)eed  for 
the  depot  and  for  the  train.  This  was  my  first  entrance 
to  llockford,  my  present  home. 

When  the  conductor  came  around  I  told  him  my  circum- 
stances, but  he  did  not  believe  me,  and  took  my  comforter 
from  off  my  neck,  and  ordered  me  to  get  off  at  the  next 
stiition.  This  I  did,  and  footed  it  from  Cherry  Valley  to 
Belvidere  in  the  bitter  coldness  of  that  night,  and  was  al- 
most frozen.  Arriving  at  the  station,!  sat  up  in  the  engine- 
house  the  remainder  of  the  night.  Being  faint  with  hun- 
ger and  tired  by  the  t4.>il  of  the  day,  and  as  I  sat  there  all 
alone,  the  past — which  ever  haunted  me — with  its  sorrows 
brooded  over  my  mind,  and  with  deep  sighs  I  thought  of 
tlie  unjust  act  of  the  man  who  professed  to  be  a  Christian, 
in  turning  me  away  without  a  cent  of  my  wages  to  help 
myself  with.  Alas!  where  is  there  any  confidence,  w^hen 
those  who  profess  to  be  Christ's  turn  me  from  their  door, 
with  not  even  the  means  to  buy  a  meal  to  satisfy  hunger? 
Let  those  refrain  from  weeping  who  never  had  a  want  nor 
knew  a  tear;  but  upon  that  dismal  night,  while  the  wild 
tempest  made  a  sad,  mournful  noise  as  it  swept  around  the 


118  AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 

building  and  piled  the  drifting  snow  against  the  window, 
I  wept  as  only  a  child  of  misfortune  is  compelled  to,  and 
felt  that  there  were  neither  any  good  nor  justice  in  the 
world,  and  longed  to  be  at  rest  in  the  eternal  sleep  of  death, 
where  sorrow,  cold,  hunger,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  life  are 
unknown. 

But  the  morning  dawned  at  length,  and  I  continued  mj 
efforts  to  find  work,  and  succeeded  in  finding  a  place  near 
Genoa,  DeKalb  County,  with  a  ^r.  Ira  Ketchum. 

This  time  I  fell  into  a  "  cod-fish  "  aristocratic  family — 
the  meanest  and  most  overbearing  class  of  beings  God  ever 
suffered  to  live.  They  treated  me  more  like  a  dog  than  a 
human  being.  But  I  performed  my  tasks,  endured  their 
haughty  insults,  and  lived  a  miserable  and  unhappy  life, 
and  was  only  too  glad  when  my  time  expired.  But,  to  my 
astonishment,  Mr.  Ketchum  heaped  insult  upon  injury  by 
giving  me  a  worthless  note.  Gathering  up  what  little  of 
this  world  I  had,  I  sought  me  another  home. 

The  morning  of  my  departure  was  a  lovely  one.  The 
bird^,  the  grassy  plains,  the  lowing  herds,  the  leafy  groves, 
the  balmy  atmosphere,  the  smiling  sun,  in  short,  all  nature 
seemed  to  chant  a  joyful  song  to  the  Author  of  the  uni- 
verse. Upon  the  zephyrs  floated  the  sweetest  fragrance  of 
prairie  flowers.  All  around  me  seemed  to  be  gladness 
and  song — a  strange  contrast  with  my  own  sad  heart.  It 
was  the  month  of  roses,  June,  the  loveliest  of  the  year, 
combining  in  it  the  freshness  of  spring  and  the  gladsome- 
ness  of  the  summer  hour,  when  bright  skies  and  soft  air 
cause  nature  to  fullv  awaken  to  new  life,  beautv,  and  lov. 
Earth's  emerald  carpet  was  begemmed  with  richest  and 
most  lovely  flowers.  As  I  walked  along  the  meadow-path, 
for  I  preferred  the  company  of  the  singing-birds,  flitting 
from  fence  to  branch,  and  from  branch  to  heaven,  to  the 
faces  of  men  which  I  mio-ht  meet  everv  few  minutes  on  the 
highway;  I  prefeiTed  to  be  fanned  by  the  gentle  breezes 


PERSONAL    RKCOLI.ECTIONS.  119 

redolent  with  the  fra^^nince  ot'  blossoms,  to  the  dust  and 
the  rumbling  of  waf^ons.  Ah,  my  sad  heart  wanted  to  be 
left  alone  to  commune  with  nature  and  to  drink  in  its  health- 
giving  power.  The  tVeshnessof  this  morning  was  unusual, 
and  the  sights  and  sounds  l)eguiling;  oidy  a  few  white 
clouds  like  hills  of  silver  rising  from  an  azure  plain  are 
piled  against  the  deep  blue  sky.  The  bright  beams  of  the 
golden  orb  of  day  j>enetrate  each  spot  of  tin*  new-born 
earth,  bathing  it  in  a  new  Hood  of  glorv. 

The  sparkling  stream  and  tlie  mountain-born  rivulet  llow 
melodiously  along  o'er  many  lovely  s])ots,  and  at  the  musical 
whisper  of  the  breeze  the  smiling  and  honey-laden  flowers 
bow  their  fragrant  heads,  and  softly  kiss  tlie  murmurinty 
waters  as  they  behold  their  beauty  reflected  in  the  mirror- 
like stream.  As  a  cheerful,  smiling  face  always  carries  a 
charm  wherever  it  gt>es,  and  makes  around  itself  a  lii^ht 
that  clears  the  clouded  brow,  and  sparkles  in  the  dull  and 
listless  eye;  so  the  cup  of  joy,  borne  on  by  laughing  Sum- 
mer overflows  upon  all  animated  beings.  How  gladlv  the 
birds  chirp  and  sing  and  dance  on  the  budding  trees!  .  The 
song  of  each  happy  warbler  is  full  of  ])raise  and  thanks- 
giving to  God.  Kind  Summer,  how  I  love  thy  golden  hours, 
for  thy  gentle  hand  has  strewn  the  wild  flowers  like  radiant 
pearls  upon  the  grass,  that  they  may  kiss  our  feet,  look 
lovingly  into  our  faces,  and  scent  our  path  with  a  rich  per- 
fume! The  wild  flowers  are  scattered  in  rich  boundless  pro- 
fusion and  infinite  variety.  Peace,  harmony  and  beauty 
dwell  among  them  as  they  nestle  lovingly  side  by  side  on 
the  far-extending  plains.  The  bee,  as  it  hums  its  summer 
songs,  flies  from  one  flower  to  another  to  extract  their  sweet- 
ness; and  the  cheerful  child  treads  them  inadvertentlv  be- 
neath  his  feet,  j)lucks  them  with  his  tiny  Angers  and  weaves 
them  into  the  sweetest  posy  for  his  mother.  At  least,  thus 
was  it  with  me,  when  other  happier  years  were  mine,  and 
in  glee  I  roamed  the  valleys  of  another  and   milder  clime. 


120  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

But  the  remembrance  of  these  things  only  seemed  to 
mock  me.  And  as  I  raised  my  eyes  and  looked  over  the 
undulating  prairies  waving  with  golden  grain,  I  wondered 
if  it  would  be  always  thus  with  me,  whether  my  efforts  to 
gain  an  honest  living  by  hard  industry  would  long  continue 
to  be  frustrated. 

But  I  had  to  look  me  up  another  home,  which  I  did,  and 
went  to  work  again  for  Mr,  John  Mordoff,  three  miles  west 
of  Belvidere.  This  gentleman  treated  me  kindly,  and  paid 
me  every  cent  he  agreed  to. 

The  winter  of  1859  was  now  fast  approaching,  and  I 
found  an  excellent  home  with  a  good  old  gentleman,  Mr. 
Cornelius  Yandebourgh,  Kingston,  Ills.,  who  sent  me  to 
school,  first  at  Kingston,  and  then  at  Sycamore. 

While  attending  school  at  the  former  place,  we  were  re- 
quired to  write  a  comjDosition  to  be  read  before  the  school 
by  two  young  ladies.  I  had  never  written  anything  except 
one  letter,  and  my  skill  with  the  pen  was  not  very  great. 
However,  I  made  the  attempt,  doing  the  best  I  knew  how. 
But  my  composition  was  so  poorly  written  that  it  did  not 
bear  reading  before  the  school.  Some  young  ladies,  who 
had  been  to  school  all  their  lives,  learning  of  the  facts  in 
the  case,  composed  essays  in  which  they  ridiculed  me  for 
my  ignorance  by  all  kinds  of  funny  expressions.  These 
they  read  before  the  school,  which  excited  laughter  at  my 
expense.  This  cut  me  to  the  very  quick.  I  bowed  my 
head,  buried  it  in  my  hands  upon  the  desk,  and  wept.  It  so 
discouraged  me  that  I  could  not  gain  confidence  enough  to 
try  again  during  the  term,  but  my  soul  was  set  on  fire  with 
indignation,  and  I  longed  and  hoped  to  see  the  day  when 
I  should  have  as  much  knowledge  as  my  lady  friends  (?) 
possessed. 

Here  was  the  grand  turning-point  of  my  life.  Up  to 
this  time  I  had  lived  recreant  to  moral  conviction  of  sin; 
though   I  can    say  with    all  sincerity    that  I    never    tuok 


PKR90NAL    KKCOLLK^TIONS.  121 

pleasure  in  \vaiit«.»ii  vice.  .My  lieart  was  aiwavb  teiuler  and 
I  could  never  treat  harshly  anythiiii^  that  had  lil'e,  but  in- 
clined toward  the  nohle,  the  beautilul,  the  lovely,  often 
retiring  to  pray  to  God  to  guide  me;  yet  I  had  never 
openly  confessed  Jesus  as  the  sinner's  friend;  feeling  that  1 
Iiad  no  claim  on  the  merits  of  the  all-cleansiui;  blood  of 
the  Redeemer  of  the  world. 

The  Ivev.  Thos.  R.  Satteriield  was  holding  a  protracted 
meeting  in  Kingston,  and  the  truth  was  brought  home  to 
my  heart  with  such  force  that  I  thought  myself  to  be  a 
great  sinner.  For  some  time  my  mind  was  sad  and 
gloomy.  One  evening  as  I  was  returning  from  the 
meeting,  I  felt  so  depressed  in  mind  that  I  kneeled  down 
beside  the  fence  and  plead  with  God  for  Jesus'  sake  to 
forgive  my  sins.  All  at  once  a  great  weight  was  lifted 
from  my  heart.  Calm  as  a  peaceful  river  were  my 
thoughts,  and  my  spirit  breathed  as  it  were  in  a  new 
atmosphere.     Truly  I  found  Jesus  precious  to  my  soul. 

I  was  regular  in  attendance  upon  all  means  of  grace, 
and  rapidly  grew  in  spiritual  strength. 

The  school  closino-  in  Februarv,  the  man  ihouiriil  L 
ought  to  attend  until  Spring,  so  he  procured  me  a  place 
A  ith  Mr.  zVrnold  Brown,  Sycamore, where  I  went  to  school 
for  two  months.  The  family  in  which  I  lived  were  most 
excellent  people, but  they  being  Universalist  in  belief,  and 
I  an  Orthodox  convert,  they  puzzled  me  many  times,  for  I 
could  not  reconcile  their  interjjretation  of  the  Scripture 
with  mine,  as  I  had  been  taught  under  the  preaching  of 
Mr.  Satterfield.  This  set  me  thinking,  for  it  was  now 
manifest  that  there  were  two  sides  to  understand intr  the 
Bible,  and  1  could  not  tell  which  was  the  right  side,  so  1 
determined  to  investi^^ate  the  matter  for  myself.  Eaijerlv 
I  read  everything  in  my  reach,  and  my  njind  for  a  long 
time  was  alternating  between  faith  in  Christ  as  the  Savior, 
and  open  intidelity.  The  struggle  was  a  hard  one,  but  1 
resolved  to    clint^    to    mv    faith    in   Jesus  until    I    could 


122  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

clear  up  the  other  side  so  that  conscience  could  be  rec- 
onciled. 

Spring  now  returning,  I  again  went  to  work.  I  had 
now  learned  to  read,  and  to  comprehend  what  I  read,  and 
was  anxious  to  cultivate  mv  mind.  The  man  with  whom 
I  now  lived  looked  with  contempt  upon  literature,  and  was 
stoutly  opposed  to  my  reading.  Of  course  I  never 
thought  of  taking  the  time  which  belonged  to  him,  and 
told  him  if  I  worked  sixteen  hours  each  day  for  him,  he 
ouo^ht  not  to  beo^rudo^e  me  one  hour  out  of  the  remainiuij 
eight,  and  if  I  felt  like  reading,  that  was  my  affair.  But 
he  was  one  of  those  kind  of  men  who  thought  that  ''larnin' 
spil'd  pe'ple."  However,  the  horses  at  noon  had  to  have 
time  to  eat,  and  as  I  could  eat  a  little  quicker  than  they,  I 
would  take  my  book  and  sit  in  the  mano^er  and  read.  I 
chose  this  place  so  I  would  not  have  my  mind  so  absorbed 
in  reading  as  to  forget  myself,  for  the  moment  they  were 
done,  I  went  to  work  again.  The  man  seeing  I  was  bound 
to  read,  told  me  to  cut  wood  while  the  horses  were  eatinof. 
Refusing  to  comply  with  this  unreasonable  request,  he  was 
offended  and  drew  the  cords  of  severity  so  tightly  that  they 
snapped.  I  told  him  he  was  not  the  only  man  in  the 
world,  and  all  I  wanted  of  him  was  my  wages,  and  he 
might  do  his  own  work.  He  refused  to  pay  me,  so  I  told 
him  if  his  heart  was  so  hard,  mean  and  stingy  as  to  cheat 
a  poor  boy  out  of  his  twice-earned  wages,  he  could  keep 
them.     And  1  left  him. 

While  on  my  way  to  Belvidere,  I  fell  in  with  a  curious 
genius.  He  said  he  made  five  dollars  a  day  in  selling  med- 
icines, and  wanted  to  know  if  I  did  not  want  to  go  into 
the  business.  I  told  him  I  would  try  it.  So  he  fitted  me 
out  with  a  basket  full  of  medicines.  The  foUowinor  morn- 
ing  I  started  bright  and  early,  with  fond  expectation  of 
soon  realizing  a  fortune.  From  house  to  house  I  went 
offering  my  curatives,  but  the  people  were  all  well  and  did 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  123 

not  want  the  medicines.  I  persevered  until  in  the  after- 
noon, when,  becominf]^  hungry,  tired  and  discouraged,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion,  inasmuch  as  I  had  not  sold  a  cent's 
worth,  that  it  was  not  a  very  money-making  business,  so 
I  took  out  my  bottles  and  smashed  them,  medicine  and 
all,  against  a  rail  fence,  sold  my  basket  to  an  Irishwoman 
for  a  meal,  and  went  to  work  again. 

Again  I  found  me  a  place.  xVs  fate  would  have  it,  this 
was  another  Universalist  family.  But  the  man  did  not 
trouble  me  much,  as  he  did  not  have  much  reli<rion  him- 
self,  even  such  as  he  professed.  Patiently  I  toiled  through 
the  summer's  sultry  hours,  in  hopes  of  earning  money 
enough  to  buy  me  some  clothes,  as  I  was  now  very  desti- 
tute. When  my  time  expired,  I  went  to  Mr.  Taylor  for 
my  wages.  Alas!  was  it  possible  I  Again  I  was  the  victim 
of  misplaced  confidence.  Oh,  it  seemed  so  hard  to  have 
heartless  men  wroui'  me  time  and  agfain  out  of  mv  hard- 
earned  wages!  What  could  I  do?  There  was  no  one  to 
defend  or  protect  me.  In  despair  and  anguish  of  soul  I 
sat  down  by  the  roadside  and  cried  like  a  child.  Oh,  how 
bitter  the  cup  so  often  pressed  to  my  lips!  But  I  could 
not  live  on  tears  or  sighs,  so  I  had  to  go  to  work  again. 
Discouraged  to  work  by  the  month,  I  obtained  such 
employment  as  I  could,  and  thus  earned  means  to  hnv 
clothes. 

Passing  through  Kingston,  an  old  neighbor  was  about 
to  clean  his  well,  and  wanted  me  to  go  down  into  it.  I 
did  BO.  After  taking:  out  some  eio^ht  feet  of  sand  and 
mud,  while  a  large  stone  was  being  elevated,  the  chain 
around  it  bei^an  to  slip  when  about  thirtv  feet  above  mv 
head,  and  on  looking  up  I  saw  the  stone  giving  way.  My 
hair  stood  on  end.  Oh!  what  shall  I  do,  or  where  can  I 
escape?  One  moment  more  and  the  stone  would  crush 
me  beneath  its  wei<;ht.  Calmlv  as  I  could  I  awaited  the 
issue.     Tliose  above  me  strainetl  every  nerve  to  reach  the 


124  ACTTOBIOGRAPHT 

stone,  and  succeeded  just  as  it  was  in  the  act  of  falling. 
The  reader  mav  be  assured  I  drew  a  lono^  breath. 

For  four  days'  ser\^ices  in  the  well  I  asked  four  dollars, 
and  obtained  two.  After  cleaning  two  more,  receiving 
nothing  for  one,  and  only  fifty  cents  for  the  other,  I  con- 
cluded that  my  health  was  of  more  value  to  me  than  their 
wells,  and  refused  to  go  into  more. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  season  I  worked  for  Mr. 
Foster,  of  ^S'orth  Kingston,  111.,  for  my  board  and  school 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTION8.  125 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

School  Days  —  Off  fok  Obkklin,  O.  —  A  Sad  Disap- 
pointment—  In  Cleveland  —  On  a  Farm  Again  — 
Injured  Feelings  Vindicated  —  On  the  Way  to 
Illinois — Change  of  Occupation. 

This  winter  I  studied  very  diligently.  The  people  see- 
ing I  had  a  mind  to  learn,  and  that  I  was  devoted  and 
earnest  as  a  Christian,  suggested  to  me  tlie  propriety  of 
preparing  for  the  ministry.  I  replied  that  I  had  often 
thought  of  it  and  that  I  would  gladly  go  anywhere  the 
good  Lord  directed,  but  I  had  given  up  all  liopes  of  ever 
attaining  such  a  position,  as  I  had  no  money  to  get  an 
education  with,  nor  would  be  likely  to  have  any  if  I  met 
with  no  better  success  in  the  future  than  I  had  in  the 
past.  In  conversation  with  a  neighbor  upon  this  subject 
I  was  informed  that  there  was  a  school  in  Oberlin,  Ohio 
where,  by  working  three  hours  every  day,  I  could  work 
my  way  through  college.  I  received  this  information  with 
gladness,  and  at  once  made  preparation  to  go,  for  I 
thought  this  was  a  grand  opening  for  me.  !No  sooner 
had  the  school  closed  than  I  set  out  for  Oberlin  with 
hopes  of  a  briglit  and  glorious  future  burning  brightly  in 
my  bosom,  for  the  store-house  of  knowledge  with  all  its 
mine  of  wealth  would  now  be  unlocked  and  its  rich 
treasures  placed  within  my  grasp;  in  brief,  I  was  going  to 
have  the  longings  of  my  whole  being  satisfied,  if  energy 
and  study  could  do  it. 

Oberlin  had  been  pictured  in  my  mind  as  a  lovely, 
sunny  village,  renowned  for  its  classical  lore. 

The  second  night  after  my  departure  was  tefn{)e>tunus. 


126  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and  the  storm-clouds  hung  frowningly  in  the  sky  of  the 
approaching  morning.  As  the  train  neared  Oberlin  I  was 
all  excited  and  noted  every  object  of  interest.  Upon  ar- 
riving, the  morning  was  dark,  cold,  and  rainy.  With 
quick  step  and  hopeful  heart  I  hastened  to  the  school 
in  high  expectation  of  being  soon  initiated  into  its  duties. 

But,  oh  I  how  bitter  the  disappointment  when  with  a 
heavy  heart  I  learned  that  it  had  been  misrepresented  to 
me.  and  that  nothing  could  be  done  for  me  other  than 
that  I  could  go  out  into  the  forests  and  cut  wood  for  three 
shillings  a  cord,  and  thus  earn  money  to  pay  my  ex- 
penses. 

The  foUowino-  mornino;  I  left  Oberlin  amid  rain  and 
snow,  and  pressed  my  way  on  foot  to  Eleria,  at  which 
place  I  went  to  nearly  every  house  and  asked  for  a  home 
where  I  could  work  for  mv  board  and  2^0  to  school,  but  no 
one  wanted  me.  Havini'  tried  in  vain,  and  as  nio:ht  was 
fast  approaching,  I  made  an  effort  to  procure  a  place  for 
the  night,  but,  as  it  was  in  times  of  old,  ''they  began  to 
make  excuses,"  savins:  that  thev  had  sickness  in  the  family, 
and  therefore  could  not  keep  strangers.  Having  been 
out  in  the  rain  all  dav.  mv  clothes  were  wet  throao:h,  and 
the  weather  chano^ino:.  it  was  so  cold  that  thev  beD:an  to 
freeze  on  me.  Being  faint  with  hunger,  weary  by  my 
fruitless  efforts,  and  discourao^ed,  I  sat  down  bv  the  side  of 
the  swiftly  rushing  stream  to  drown  my  sorrow.  All  pen- 
sive, my  heart  burst  forth  into  weeping.  While  thus 
mino^lincr  mv  tears  with  the  waters  of  the  brook,  a  man 
passing  along  the  street  noticed  me,  and  coming  up,  asked 
why  I  was  there  weeping.  I  replied  that  I  had  not  a  cent 
of  monev.  that  I  had  no  friends,  that  no  one  would  o^ive 
me  anything  to  eat  or  keep  me  for  the  night,  that  I  was 
tired,  hungry,  wet  and  almost  chilled,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  do  or  where  to  go.  Upon  this  he  gave  me  twenty- 
five  cents  and  took  me  to  a  hotel  where  I  was  kindly  pro- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  127 

vided  for.     I  very  gratefully  thanked  the  noble  gentleman 
for  his  generosity. 

The  next  morning  I  left  Eleria  very  much  refreshed  and 
feeling  that  there  were  some  wayside  angels  in  life's  thorny 
pathway.  May  God  bless  thani.  Hut,  oh!  how  meager 
is  charity  when  disrobed  of  the  praise  of  society.  On  to 
Cleveland  1  pressed  my  way  for  the  purpose  of  renewing 
my  efforts  to  find  a  place  to  go  to  school.  Toward  evening 
I  again  made  application  to  stay  all  night,  and  tound  a 
good  place.  They  were  so  kind  and  gentle  that  I  sighed 
and  longed  to  live  with  them.  Upon  arriving  at  Cleve- 
land, I  made  another  fruitless  effort. 

After  leavin*'  Oberlin  and  while  footinij  it  the  ei^rht 
miles  to  Eleria  in  the  rain  and  mud  of  February,  I 
revolved  many  things  in  my  mind.  1  thought  of  the  past, 
and  how  I  had  been  wron<;ed  out  of  mv  waores.  Oh,  how 
could  I  think  of  going  to  work  on  a  farm  under  such  dis- 
couragements? What  could  I  do?  This  I  purposed  to  do: 
I  would  lirst  try  to  obtain  a  place  and  go  to  school.  If  I 
failed  in  that,  then  1  would  try  to  learn  a  trade.  Then  the 
question  arose,  what  trade  would  be  best  for  me?  I  ran 
over  in  my  mind  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  various 
trades.  I  wanted  something  that  would  satisfy  this  long 
ing  after  knowledge.  I  must  hav^e  an  education  or  die  in 
the  attempt.  And  what  would  help  me  to  obtain  this 
desire  of  my  life?  All  at  once  it  flashed  into  my  mind  to 
learn  the  printer's  trade.  But,  as  above  observed,  there 
was  no  place  for  me  at  either  going  to  school  or  learning 
the  selected  trade.  What  could  I  do?  The  way  was 
hedged  up.  Disheartened,  I  retreated  as  far  as  Berea,  and 
on  the  Monday  following  sought  employment  again  on  the 
farm.  Wandering  out  into  Columbia  township,  I  found  a 
place  with  Mr.  Brunson  and  went  to  work. 

Well,  here  I  am  on  a  farm  again.  Wonder  what  success 
I  will  have  this  time?     Though  I  had  become  discouraged 


128  AUTOBIOGKAl'IIY. 

in  working  on  a  farm,  vet  necessity  coiapelled  me  to.  At 
all  events  it  afforded  me  a  home,  and  I  went  to  work  with 
a  good  will,  trusting  in  God  and  making  the  best  of  mj 
position  I  could.  I  found  it  here  as  I  had  in  some  other 
places — grinding  the  most  possible  work  out  of  a  poor  boy 
for  the  least  amount  of  money.  I  had  to  get  up  at  fonr 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  often  work  until  nine  in  the 
evening.  I  endured  this  nnceasing  toil  until  July,  when  I 
was  taken  sick..  I  asked  the  man  for  my  wages,  telling 
him  that  I  was  unable  to  endure  such  hard  toil.  Looking 
frowninglj  and  contemptuously  upon  me,  he  replied  that  I 
would  have  to  wait  his  convenience.  Just  mv  luck  ao^ainl 
Sadlv  I  left  him  exultino-  over  his  victorv. 

Passino^  alono;  the  road,  a  vouno^  man,  who  had  been 
witness  to  my  slavish  life,  asked  me  if  I  had  received  my 
pay.  I  replied  that  I  had  not.  He  then  pressed  me  to 
sue  Mr.  Brunson,  and  thus  collect  my  pay.  I  told  him  I 
had  never  done  such  a  thing  in  my  life,  and  did  not  know 
how  to  proceed.  He  replied,  "You  pitch  into  him,  and  I 
will  back  you  up;  get  out  a  warrant,  and  a  writ  for  me  and 
one  for  neighbor  Snell;  we  will  see  that  you  will  have 
justice  done  you,  for  he  has  made  it  a  practice  for  years  to 
go  to  Cleveland  and  get  some  ignorant  foreigners  to  work 
for  him,  whom  he  would  grind  down  with  labor  until  they 
would  leave  him,  as  you  have  done,  and  then  refuse  to 
pay  them."  I  followed  the  suggestion  of  my  friend;  went 
to  the  justice  of  the  peace  and  stated  my  case.  The 
justice  said  I  must  first  choose  a  guardian — as  I  was  under 
age — and  then  he  would  give  me  the  proper  papers.  Mr. 
Brunson,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood, was  brought  to  terms,  and  had  to  pay  every  cent. 

While  living  with  this  Mr.  Brunson  my  mind  had  be- 
come discourao:ed,  and  mv  heart  ached  for  somethins:  better. 
Like  a  bird  in  its  caore,  it  fluttered  for  libertv.  The  world 
looked  empty  enough  to  me.     This  state  of  things  led  me 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  129 

to  contemplate  tlie  home  in  heaven.  My  mind  dwelt  so 
much  upon  that  tlieme  that  often  while  in  the  field,  away 
from  mortal  eyes,  I  would  stop  my  team  and  druji  upon 
my  knees  in  the  furrow, and  j)ray  to  Almi«^hty  God  to  pity 
me  and  to  help  me.  Then  the  good  angels — for  so  I  called 
the  sweet  and  heavenly  thoughts  which  filled  my  foul — 
would  drive  away  all  my  sadness  and  longing.  How  many 
limes  I  thought  my  sainted  mother  stood  hefore  me  and, 
with  that  sad,  sweet  look  in  her  face,  would  say,  *•*■  Be  of 
good  cheer,  my  boy,  the  future  will  bring  brighter  days." 
The  meetings,  too,  gave  me  much  comfort.  Oh,  what 
powerful  prayer-meetings  we  used  to  have  in  the  little 
meeting-house  standing  on  the  bank  of  the  river  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  village  of  Olnisteadl  What  miirhtv  men 
of  God  used  to  pray  in  the  })rayer-circles!  Those  Ohio 
people  really  had  the  kind  of  religion  that  suited  me. 

My  faithful  attendance  upon  all  means  of  grace,  and  the 
secret,  prayerful  reading  of  my  Bible.  I  think,  were  the  only 
things  that  kept  me  from  giving  up  in  despair,  and  plunging 
headlong  into  vice  and  ruin.  I  would  read  and  re-read  the 
story  of  those  worthies  in  sacred  history  until  my  own 
heart  seemed  touched  with  a  live  coal  from  ofl'  God's  altar. 
To  my  mind  there  was  something  so  grand,  so  God-like, 
in  the  actions  of  these  moral  heroes.  Amid  mv  discouraire- 
ments  and  my  tears  I  sought  to  write  upon  my  own  heart 
the  actions  and  lives  of  those  Hebrew  worthies  who  even 
dared  to  go  down  into  the  heated  furnace  of  atiiiction.  You 
remember  it  pleased  Nebuchadnezzar  to  set  up  a  golden 
image  in  the  plain  of  Dura,  and  he  bade  all  nations  and 
people  assemble  to  witness  its  dedication.  The  historian 
tells  us  that  thirty-six  nations  were  there  represented,  and 
it  would  seem  that  none  of  that  vast  concourse,  save  three, 
questioned  the  propriety  of  bowing  down  to  the  golden 
image.  It  is  so  easy  to  i^o  with  the  multitude.  Men 
sometimes  even  now  make  a  similar  mistake.     Look  uj)ou 


13C  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

that  plain  tilled  with  devoted  suhjeots  prostrating  them- 
eelves  at  the  pound  of  niiisical  instruments  and  the  cry  of 
the  heralds.  Ah,  Shadrach,  Meshech,  and  Abednego,  do 
ye  well  to  stand  up  boldly  before  the  God  of  heaven  in  the 
face  of  this  multitude  and  under  the  consequences  of  the 
royal  decree?     Noble  youths! 

Mark  the  modest  and  calm  reply  to  the  king's  question- 
insrs:  "  If  it  be  so,  our  God  will  deliver  us  from  the  burn- 
ing  fiery  furnace,  but  if  not,  he  it  known  unto  thee^  0  king^ 
that  we  will  not  8et*ve  thy  gods  nor  worship  the  golden 
linage  wJiich  thou  hast  set  up^  Did  mortals  ever  utter 
burning,  livinfi:  words  that  conveved  more  resolute  deter- 
mination  to  do  right  though  the  heavens  fall?  It  is  true 
that  these  words  brought  upon  them  the  displeasure  of  that 
wicked  monarch,  and  they  were  ruthlessly  thrust  into  the 
fiery  furnace,  but  in  the  midst  of  the  flames  the  form  of 
the  fourth  appears!  Well  might  that  heathen  king,  as  he 
looked  down  into  the  glowing  lake  of  living  fire,  turnback 
pale  and  exclaim:  *'Did  not  we  cast  three  men  bound  into 
the  midst  of  the  fire?  Lo,  I  see  four  men  loose,  walking 
in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and  the  form  of  the  fourth  is  like 
unto  the  Son  of  Gody  Yes,  when  God  sends  his  angels, 
earth  and  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  us.  To  the  admira- 
tion of  all  that  assemblage  of  people,  these  three  noble 
vouths  came  forth  from  the  flames  with  not  even  the  smell 
of  fire  upon  their  persons.  When  God  delivers  tbere  is 
no  mistaking — it  is  signal  and  complete. 

Notice  the  unassuming  modesty,  yet  firm  confidence  of 
these  youths.  Their  determination  to  be  true  to  God  did 
not  relieve  them  from  the  fiery  furnace,  but  once  in  it,  God 
was  with  them.  So  it  may  be  with  us.  To  have  God  with 
us  we  must  go  down  into  the  furnace  of  aflliction.  There 
is  no  great  sorrow  but  good  will  come  out  of  it.  AVlien  it 
it  is  dark — very  dark — the  stars  shine  all  the  more  brightly 
above  us.     When  the  storm  sweeps  over  us,  then  in  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  131 

dark  storm-cloud  appears  the  beautiful  rainbow  of  safety 
and  peace.  After  the  winter  come  the  gentle  sliowers, 
springing  grass,  bursting  buds,  and  the  unfolding  flowers, 
and  we  say,  "  How  delightful  is  spring!"  Oh,  ye  aching, 
longing  hearts,  in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  can  ye  not  see 
the  form  of  the  Fourth  ? 

Again,  it  could  not  have  been  a  very  agreeable  or  a  very 
pleasing  thought  for  those  youths  to  contemplate  as  they 
saw  the  soldiers  preparing  the  fiery  furnace.  The  thought 
must  cut  them  to  the  heart,  but  they  stood  the  test  How 
men  dislike  to  have  their  hearts  probed  where  the  deepest 
sin  is  lodged!  The  besetting  sin  is  about  the  last  one  ac- 
knowledged; that  is  the  one  most  unwillingly  submitted 
to  the  Healer  for  treatment.  It  is  easy  to  indulge  in  vir- 
tuous indignation  against  sins  which  are  loathsome  to  the 
sight.  It  is  easy  to  berate  the  drunkard,  or  to  cudgel  the 
prostrate  wretch  whom  everybody  cuffs  and  kicks.  It  is 
fashionable  to  hate  the  abandoned.  But  when  it  comes  to 
looking  home — to  taking  measurements  of  our  own  in- 
clinations and  impulses — to  analyzing  the  sin  that  ap- 
proaches ourselves,  then  the  question  takes  on  a  new  and 
terrible  significance.  The  insinuating  evil  that  approaches 
us  dressed  in  the  garb  of  expediency,  recommended  by 
some  plausible  circumstances,  is  the  peril  which  must  be 
felt  to  be  escaped.  It  is  easy  to  keep  out  of  the  range  of 
other  men's  sin,  to  stand  clear  of  certain  crushing  crimes 
which  scathe  the  moral  nature;  but  to  stand  guard  over 
one's  own  tendencies,  to  fortify  the  soul  against  the  silent 
and  secret  attacks  of  the  tempter — this  requires  the  grace 
of  God  and  the  soul's  best  courage  for  ever.  Unless  the 
heart  be  fully  consecrated  to  the  Savior,  and  all  the  im- 
pulses and  influences  of  the  life  controlled  by  the  Spirit, 
a  mere  profession  of  religion  is  notliing  more  than  a  band- 
age for  a  whithered  hand,  or  a  sling  for  a  helpless  arm. 
No,  no,  mere  heartless  profession  is  an  insult  to  the  Al- 


132  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

micrlitv.       lie  wants  men  who  will  stand   the   test — who 
hesitate  not  to  go  down  into  the  furnace. 

Then  tliere  is  another  significance  to  this  furnace  trial. 
All  valuable  jewels  have  to  stand  the  test  of  fire.  Indeed, 
the  more  precious  and  valuable,  the  severer  the  tests. 
All  know  this,  how  the  refiner  sits  by  the  fire  to  watch  the 
transforming  process.  And  then  these  jewels  as  they  come 
from  the  furnace  are  made  very  desirable.  It  is  said  tliat 
the  white  topaz  of  Portugal  has  an  untold  value.  Philip 
of  Spain  bought  a  gem  worth  fifteen  thousand  ducats,  and 
Leo  kept  a  pearl  valued  at  eighty  thousand  crowns;  but 
God's  jewels  are  worth  more  than  these.  The  plainest  gem 
in  his  casket  costs  more  than  they  all,  for  it  cost  the  blood 
of  his  Son.  But  the  price  was  paid,  the  covenant  sealed, 
and  "  they  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts."  Who 
can  even  compute  the  moral  worth  of  those  brave  youths? 
Ah,  they  were  a  thousand  times  more  valuable  than  fine 
gold!  Oh,  if  we  only  had  such  brave  young  men  to-day — 
young  men  who  would  stand  up  in  the  face  of  every  op- 
position and  stem  the  tides  of  sin.  Had  we  such  mi)ral 
heroes  in  every  department  of  life,  in  less  than  ten  years 
we  would  bring  a  conquered  world  and  lay  it  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  lie  that  hath  God  on  his  side,  though  single-handed 
and  alone,  is  always  in  the  majority. 

But  there  is  the  furnace.  How  men  will  shrink  from 
it.  Yet  in  the  furnace  is  the  test.  The  Pharisees  and 
hypocrites  will  not  be  likely  to  venture  in.  However, 
every  jewel  in  the  casket  of  God  must  be  genuine.  Imi- 
tation stones  and  paste  diamonds  may  deceive  the  eye  of 
man  until  they  are  tested;  so  a  firm  creed  and  studied  art 
may  pass  for  loyalty  to  God  until  it  is  touched  by  the  magic 
fires  of  persecution.  The  diamond  must  be  cut  and  pol- 
ished before  its  worth  is  known;  the  chrysolite  and  topaz 
must  be  passed  through  the  fire  before  they  get  their  luster; 
the  dark  spots  in  the  amethyst  must  be  cleared  away  in 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  133 

the  flames.  And  so  of  God's  jewels.  "I  have  chosen  thee 
in  the  furnace  of  afl[liction."  His  diamonds  are  ground 
and  finished  bj  suffering;  his  gems  are  cleared  of  flaws  in 
the  fires  of  persecution.  The  purest  stones,  if  not  cut  and 
polished,  are  unfit  for  the  Master's  use.  IN^ever  was  Chris- 
tian hope  so  strong  that  it  suffered  not  by  worldly  honors; 
and  never  Christian  faith  so  firm  that  it  faltered  not  in  the 
hour  of  success. 

But  when  the  morning  is  gone  and  the  night  has  come, 
the  fires  of  faith  are  re-kindled.  When  earthly  hopes  are 
stricken  down  like  stars  from  the  sky,  we  cast  ourselves 
upon  the  anchor  that  never  fails  the  tempest-tossed  heart. 
"When  friends  forget  their  vows,  and  the  mountains  and 
islands  of  human  trust  are  moved  from  their  places,  we 
remember  him  who  hath  said:  "I  will  never  leave  thee  nor 
forsake  thee." 

Every  Christian  virtue  gleams,  like  the  chrysolite,  more 
brightly  in  the  flames  of  affliction. .  Every  loyal  friend  of 
God  is  as  firm  in  the  hour  of  affliction  as  the  diamond  in 
the  hand  of  the  lapidary.  Every  crystal  tear  from  his 
children  is  a  pearl  in  God's  casket.  Every  loyal,  suftering 
heart  is  a  gem  in  his  coronet. 

"They  shall  be  mine^  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts."  Earth 
may  hold  them  now;  persecution  may  fling  her  poisoned 
arrows,  temptation  mar  assail  and  disease  may  waste, — 
yea  death  may  even  hold  them, — but  in  that  grand,triumph- 
ant  morning  when  he  maketh  up  his  jewels,  every  star  and 
every  gem  shall  gleam  in  the  crown  of  the  King.  Xone 
are  forgotten,  for  he  who  seeketh  them  cannot  fail  in  his 
search.  They  come  from  the  burning  sands  of  the  south 
and  the  ice-bound  hills  of  the  north.  The  forgotten  graves 
of  forest  wild  and  mountain  height  shall  break  before  the 
eye  of  the  King  and  yield  his  jewels  up.  His  voice  shall 
cleave  the  ocean  walls  of  pearl  and  sapphire  with  the  cry, 
"Give  up  the  dead,"  and  then 


136  ADTOBIOGR^VPIIY. 

the  old  man  Brunson  performed  tlie  moriiiug  devotional 
exercises.  This  ma}'  seem  irreverent  in  me,  but  I  take  no 
stock  in  the  old  man's  prayers,  as  his  soul  would  not  cover 
the  point  of  a  needle.  The  old  lady  also  mistrusted  that  I 
burned  more  of  her  tallow  candle  than  I  ought  to,  just  to 
gu  to  bed  with,  but  I  took  good  care  to  keep  my  books  out 
of  sight. 

But  they  purposed  to  put  a  stop  to  this  reading  busi- 
ness by  pressing  me  more  hours  into  work,  and,  as  the 
rye  is  just  ready  to  cnt,  the  old  man  expects  me  to  keep 
up  in  binding.  This  I  can  readily  do,  as  the  grain  stands 
good  and  tall  on  the  ground.  The  first  day  the  old  man 
sweat  and  tugged  away  to  get  the  start  of  me,  but  I  kept 
up.  About  4  o'clock  he  "bu.-hed"  and  set  me  to  "shock- 
inor"  while  he  went  to  the  house. 

But  on  the  next  day  came  sweet  revenge.  He  went  into 
a  piece  of  oats  on  a  side-hill.  It  was  very  short  and  I  had 
to  "pull  my  bands,"  and  often,  after  I  had  bound  a  bundle 
it  would  "quash  out"  and  fall  to  pieces  because  the  grain 
stalks  were  so  short.  As  a  result,  the  old  gentleman 
cradled  away  from  me  with  ease,  to  my  great  discomfiture, 
as  I  was  ambitious  to  keep  up.  This  afforded  him  sweet 
revenge  for  yesterday's  vexation,  and,  because  I  had  been 
guilty  of  reading  against  his  expressed  command.  So 
every  time  he  cradled  a  swath,  he  would  urge  me  to  greater 
diligence  in  the  most  imperious  and  aggravating  manner 
possible.  I  tried  hard  to  keep  up,  but  in  vain.  I  worked 
patiently,  and  without  replying  to  his  oft-repeated  urgings 
until  about  11  o'clock,  when,  disheartened  and  vexed  beyond 
endurance  by  reason  of  the  fruitless  efforts  to  bind  the 
grain  and  by  the  un-called-for  urgings  of  the  old  man,  my 
soul  was  set  on  fire  with  indignation,  the  hot  blood  mounted 
into  my  face,  I  threw  down  the  rake  with  such  violence  as 
to  break  it  into  many  pieces,  and  turned  to  the  old  man 
and  told  him  he  could    bind  his  own  grain,  and  left  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  137 

field.  He  was  astonished  and  confounded  at  mv  darinor 
to  do  such  an  act.  But  he  saw  that  I  meant  what  I 
said,  and  began  to  apologize,  and  to  call  to  me  to  return. 
I  turned  around,  and  firmly  told  him  he  did  not  have 
money  enough  to  hire  me  for  another  hour,  that  he  was 
not  worthy  of  my  service,  that  I  would  see  him  and  his 
crops  perish,  and  then  I  would  not  help  him.  He  then 
replied  that  if  I  left  him  in  harvest-time,  he  would  not  pay 
me.  To  this  I  rejoined  that  if  he  was  so  contemptibly 
mean  and  his  soul  so  little  as  to  cheat  me  out  of  my  wages, 
he  might  keep  them,  that  he  was  not  able  to  employ  me 
longer,  that  no  decent  man  could  treat  a  brute  as  he  had 
treated  me.  Upon  this  he  tamed  down,  and  said  he  would 
use  me  better  if  I  only  stayed.  But  I  was  firm,  went  to 
the  house,  took  my  things  and  left,  and  obtained  my  pay, 
too,  as  before  related. 

But  then  I  did  not  regard  it  as  a  victory.  It  cost  me 
over  a  month's  wages  to  go  through  the  process  of  choos- 
ing a  guardian.  I  would  never  of  my  own  accord  have 
appealed  to  the  law.  It  is  my  nature  to  suffer  and  to  for- 
give. I  envy  not  the  selfish  man — of  all  men  he  is  the 
rather  to  be  pitied.  This  man  could  have  paid  without 
trouble.  He  was  rich  and  I  was  poor,  but  he  was  as  selfish  as 
he  was  rich.  And  what  a  miserable  depravity  selfishness  is. 
It  can  see  nothing  but  its  own  good.  The  man  who  is  ruled 
by  it  is  a  miserable  slave.  He  does  not  seem  to  compre- 
hend that  the  All -wise  Father,  who  sitteth  in  the  circle  of 
the  heaven,  did  not  make  the  beautiful  world,  and  fill  it 
with  the  sources  of  exquisite  enjoyment,  and  arch  it  over 
with  the  blue  sky  and  bright  sun,  solely  for  the  selfish 
man;  yet  he  acts  as  though  every  water  privilege  ought  to 
turn  his  wheel — every  wind  be  fair  for  his  ship — every 
shower  invigorate  his  crop,  and  every  enterprise  enrich  his 
cofters.  He  cares  not  who  starves  if  he  fares  sumptuously 
every  day.     He  cares  not  who  sleeps  on  the  unsheltered 


136  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the  old  man  Brunson  pertbrined  the  inoriiing  devotional 
exercises.  This  niav  seem  irreverent  in  me,  but  I  take  no 
stock  in  the  old  man's  prayers,  as  his  soul  would  not  cover 
the  point  of  a  needle.  The  old  lady  also  mistrusted  that  I 
burned  more  of  her  tallow  candle  than  I  ought  to,  just  to 
go  to  bed  with,  but  I  took  good  care  to  keep  my  books  out 
of  sight. 

But  they  purposed  to  put  a  stop  to  this  reading  busi- 
ness by  pressing  me  more  hours  into  work,  and,  as  the 
rye  is  just  ready  to  cut,  the  old  man  expects  me  to  keep 
up  in  binding.  This  I  can  readily  do,  as  the  grain  stands 
good  and  tall  on  the  ground.  The  first  day  the  old  man 
sweat  and  tugged  away  to  get  the  start  of  me,  but  I  kept 
up.  About  4  o'clock  he  "bu>hed"  and  set  me  to  '*shock- 
ing"  while  he  went  to  the  house. 

But  on  the  next  day  came  sweet  revenge.  He  went  into 
a  piece  of  oats  on  a  side-hill.  It  was  very  short  and  I  had 
to  "pull  my  bands,"  and  often,  after  I  had  bound  a  bundle 
it  would  "quash  out"  and  fall  to  pieces  because  the  grain 
stalks  were  so  short.  As  a  result,  the  old  gentleman 
cradled  away  from  me  with  ease,  to  my  great  discomfiture, 
as  I  was  ambitious  to  keep  up.  This  utibrded  him  sweet 
revenge  for  yesterday's  vexation,  and,  because  I  had  been 
guilty  of  reading  against  his  expressed  command.  So 
every  time  he  cradled  a  swath,  he  would  urge  me  to  greater 
diligence  in  the  most  imperious  and  aggravating  manner 
possible.  I  tried  hard  to  keep  up,  but  in  vain.  I  worked 
patiently,  and  without  replying  to  liis  oft-rei)eated  urgings 
until  a])out  11  o'clock,  when,  disheartened  and  vexed  beyond 
endurance  by  reason  of  the  fruitless  etforts  to  bind  the 
grain  and  by  the  un-called-for  urgings  of  the  old  man,  ray 
soul  was  set  on  fire  with  indignation,  the  hot  blood  mounted 
into  my  face,  I  threw  down  the  rake  with  such  violence  as 
to  break  it  into  many  pieces,  Jlnd  turned  to  the  old  man 
and  told  him  he  could    bind  his  own  grain,  and  left  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIOXS.  137 

field.  He  was  astonished  and  confounded  at  mv  daring 
to  do  such  an  act.  But  he  saw  that  I  meant  what  I 
said,  and  began  to  apologize,  and  to  call  to  me  to  return. 
I  turned  around,  and  firmly  told  him  he  did  not  have 
money  enough  to  hire  me  for  another  hour,  that  he  was 
not  worthy  of  my  service,  that  I  would  see  him  and  his 
crops  perish,  and  then  I  would  not  help  him.  He  then 
replied  that  if  I  left  him  in  harvest-time,  he  would  not  pay 
me.  To  this  I  rejoined  that  if  he  was  so  contemptibly 
mean  and  his  soul  so  little  as  to  cheat  me  out  of  my  wages, 
he  might  keep  them,  that  he  was  not  able  to  employ  me 
longer,  that  no  decent  man  could  treat  a  brute  as  he  had 
treated  me.  Upon  this  he  tamed  down,  and  said  he  would 
use  me  better  if  I  only  stayed.  But  I  was  firm,  went  to 
the  house,  took  my  things  and  left,  and  obtained  my  pay, 
too,  as  before  related. 

But  then  I  did  not  regard  it  as  a  victory.  It  cost  me 
over  a  month's  wages  to  go  through  the  process  of  choos- 
ing a  guardian.  I  would  never  of  my  own  accord  have 
appealed  to  the  law.  It  is  my  nature  to  suffer  and  to  for- 
give. I  envy  not  the  selfish  man — of  all  men  he  is  the 
rather  to  be  pitied.  This  man  could  have  paid  without 
trouble.  He  was  rich  and  I  was  poor,  but  he  was  as  selfish  as 
he  was  rich.  And  what  a  miserable  depravity  selfishness  is. 
It  can  see  nothing  but  its  own  good.  The  man  who  is  ruled 
by  it  is  a  miserable  slave.  He  does  not  seem  to  compre- 
hend that  the  All -wise  Father,  who  sitteth  in  the  circle  of 
the  heaven,  did  not  make  the  beautiful  world,  and  fill  it 
with  the  sources  of  exquisite  enjoyment,  and  arch  it  over 
with  the  blue  sky  and  bright  sun,  solely  for  the  selfish 
man;  yet  he  acts  as  though  every  water  privilege  ought  to 
turn  his  wheel — every  wind  be  fair  for  his  ship — every 
shower  invigorate  his  crop,  and  every  enterprise  enrich  his 
cofiers.  He  cares  not  who  starves  if  he  fares  sumptuously 
every  day.     He  cares  not  who   sleeps^  on  the  unsheltered 


138  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

hi<;hway,  so  long  as  he  has  a  home.  Gold  is  a  god,  and  he 
will  have  gold,  if  he  has  to  coin  it  from  the  blood  of  his 
fellow-men.  He  will  spoil  the  harvest  in  breweries  and 
distilleries,  and  then  ruin  his  fellow-men  in  taverns  and 
hotels,  in  order  to  gain  gold. 

I  hardlv  knew  what  to  do.     I  was   sick  at  heart.     It 

ft/ 

seemed  to  me  that  there  was  nothing  gr»od  or  true  in  the 
world.  I  worked  a  short  time  in  the  neighborhood,  bv  the 
day,  and  then  concluded  to  return  to  Illinois.  So  I  went 
on  foot  to  Afton,  where  I  took  the  cars  for  the  West, 
There  were  some  very  beautiful  towns  and  cities  on  the 
way,  which,  perhaps,  are  too  well  known  for  me  to  describe 
here.  Norwalk,  Toledo,  Adrian  and  South  Bend  espe- 
cially, attracted  my  attention  as  very  handsomely  built 
cities. 

As  I  was  walking  along  the  streets  of  Chicago,  going 
from  one  depot  to  another,  and,  while  opposite  the  door  of 
a  saloon,  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  crash,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment a  poor  fellow  lay  bleeding  at  my  feet — he  had  been 
pitched  out  head  first  upon  the  pavement.  There  he  lay, 
helpless  as  a  child.  If  it  would  have  done  any  good,  I 
could  have  cried  for  him,  for  he  looked  as  if  he  was  a  vic- 
tim, from  some  happy  home — made  drunk,  robbed  of  his 
money,  and  then  thrust  out.  What  an  unenviable  position 
the  saloon-keeper  occupies — a  more  pitiful,  a  more  unwor- 
thy, more  degraded,  and  more  sinful  position  cannot  be 
conceived!  To  prey  upon  the  shame,  the  crime,  the  pov- 
erty, the  body,  tiie  soul,  the  time,  the  eternity,  of  a  fellow- 
creature,  is  a\vful!  To  prepare  the  way  of  bankruptcy, 
pauperism,  disease,  prison,  deatli,  is  not  to  be  coveted  I  To 
assist  to  ruin  character,  murder  reputation,  sink  position 
and  circumstances,  filch  a  man's  crumb  of  bread,  is  odi- 
ous. To  l)eggar  families,  break  the  hearts  of  wives,  scatter 
domestic  firebrands  and  death,  break  up  happy  homes, 
divide  united  hearts,  dissolve  family  links   of  the  closest 


PERSONAL   RECOLLECTIONS.  139 

tie,  is  a  baseness  indescribable.      To  rise  into  riches   by 
such  a  course  is  not  to  be  rich;  to  be  honored  is  to  be  dis- 
honored; to  gain  place  in  the  world  is  to  have  no  dignity; 
to  stand  forth  in  the  cause  of  religion   is  to  daub  Zion's 
walls  with  untempered  mortar.     To  swell  out  in 'portly 
dimensions,  by  the  sale  of  strong  drink  is  the  price  of  pov- 
erty; to  rise  into  luxury  is  a  gain   from  wretchedness;  to 
walk  abroad  in  ease  is  a  purchase   from    perspiration  and 
toil;  to  assume  high  airs,  and  gad  about  all  bespangled  and 
bejeweled,  is  an  elevation  wrung  from  shame,  degradation, 
misery  and  death.     How  infatuated  must  the  drinker  be 
to  a  class  of  men  rolling  in  every   comfort  and   luxury, 
possessing  wealth  and  property,  and  all  purchased  at  the 
poor  infatuated   inebriate's   expense.     The   saloon-keeper 
well  clothed,  while  he  is  in  rags;  the  saloon-keeper's  wife 
jeweled,  but  the  poor  drunkard's   not  where  to  lay    her 
head;  the  saloon-keeper's  children  clothed,  fed,  educated, 
head  and  feet  preserved  from  the  inclemencies  of  the  sea- 
son ;  but  mark  his  customers,  cold,  starved,  ragged,  wet, 
diseased.     What  a  difference  between  the  state  of  those 
that   support   and    those    that   are   supported   by   strong 
drink!      Surely,  if  reflection  was  left  in  the   drunkard's 
mind,  the  sketch  I  have  just  given  would  banish  forever 
the  drinker  from  the  saloon. 

Arriving  at  Kingston,  I  worked  through  the  remainder 
of  the  harvest  by  the  day,  and  in  the  autumn  again  went 
to  live  with  Mr.  Yandebourgh. 

While  here,  I  learned  that  Mr.  J.  R.  Howlett,  editor  of 
the  Lane  Leader^  wanted  an  apprentice.  Having  had  so 
many  reverses,  I  now  felt  that  I  could  do  no  worse  than  I 
had  done;  besides,  learning  to  be  a  printer  would  almost 
be  as  good  as  a  school,  and  what  I  stored  away  in  my  mind 
no  man  could  take  from  me. 

Reasoning  thus  with  myself,  I  resolved  to  go  and  learn 
the  printer's  trade. 


14^  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Accordingly,  on  the  16tli  of  September,  1860,  I  set  out 
for  Lane — now  Roclielle — full  of  hopes  for  better  days  and 
a  brighter  future.  On,  over  the  undulating  prairies,  the 
iron  horse  held  its  course. 

This  step  was  truly  a  marked  one,  changing  as  it  did, 
all  my  plans  and  purposes.  It  was  more  an  act  of  des- 
])eration  than  of  deliberation  and  foretliought.  I  must 
confess  I  had  my  doubts  and  fears.  I  was  troubled  in 
mind.  I  was  out  on  the  ocean  of  life  all  alone.  Xo  one 
to  guide  my  mind  or  give  me  the  counsel  I  so  much 
craved.  I  had  faith  in  God,  yet  like  the  disciples  of  old 
I  did  not  fully  understand  its  nature.  The  apostle  declares 
that  "  faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen,"  and  in  this  declaration  I  could 
see,  as  in  a  mirror,  my  whole  past  life.  Amid  all  my  mis- 
fortunes, I  always  hoped  for  something  better  in  the 
future.  And  in  this  event  I  hoped  that  my  life  would  not 
be  a  failure. 


PERSONAL    KECOLLKCTIoNS.  14:1 


CHAPTEK  XY. 

A  Printer's  Devil  —  Studying — A  Fire — Another  Fire 
— A  Man  Hung — A  Dark  Day —  On  the  Way  to 
PocKFORD  —  The  First  Night  in  my  Future  Home 
Passed  in  a  Freight-car  —  A  New  Place  —  Incidents 
— War  Times — In  Camp — Soldier  Life — Dark  Days 
— A  Misfortune. 

No  sooner  had  the  train  halted  at  the  station,  in 
Pochelle,  than  I  alighted  and  sought  the  office.  Mr. 
Hewlett  received  me  kindly  and  set  me  to  work  in  the 
office.  I  was  highly  pleased  with  my  new  occupation. 
How  different  life  seemed  to  me.  Instead  of  being  com- 
pelled to  work  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  each  day  out 
in  the  heat  and  cold,  sunshine  and  rain,  I  had  to  work  only 
ten.  What  a  grand  opjDortunity  for  self  culture!  Truly 
a  new  era  had  dawned  upon  my  life ;  and  I  felt  that  a  kind 
Providence  had  opened  a  way  for  me  to  gratify  my  eager 
desire  to  study;  nor  did  I  undervalue  or  slight  these  priv- 
ileges. And  I  did  not  only  have  the  evenings  and  morn- 
ings to  myself,  but  occasionally  spare  hours;  all  of  which 
I  prized.  Ah!  how  I  loved  those  winter  hours,  when, 
with  some  good  book,  I  sat  by  the  cheerful  fire,  while  the 
tempest  wild  traversed  mountain  and  plain,  and  dismal 
night  winds  and  drifting  snow  sighed  in  the  barren 
branches. 

The  editor,  finding  me  so  anxious  to  read,  threw  open 
his  library;  and  I  had  a  feast  of  good  things.  So  eager 
was  I  to  improve  the  golden  moments,  that  I  constructed 


142  AUTOBIOGRAPUT. 

a  little  shelf  on  the  wall  close  by  where  I  worked,  on 
which  I  had  a  book,  and  I  was  found  reading  when  a  leis- 
ure moment  presented  itself.  And  roller-boys  in  a  print- 
ing office  have  many  such  moments.  Volume  after  volume 
was  thus  read. 

While  Rochelle  was  a  lovely  village,  and  many  good 
people  lived  in  it,  yet  the  gate-ways  to  hell  stood  open  on 
every  street-corner,  and  poor  whisky  often  made  night 
fearful.  Being  in  such  a  public  place,  and  noticed  by  all 
for  my  quiet,  thoughtful  turn,  and  withal,  fearless  in  my 
religious  convictions,  I  was  subjected  to  manv  taunts  and 
sneers.  Nor  could  my  infidel  opponents  get  much  the 
advantage  of  me;  for  while  their  breath  was  fragrant  with 
bad  whisky,  mine  was  fresh  with  the  contents  of  many  a 
volume.  As  a  result  they  watched  me  from  every  street 
corner,  if  possible  to  lead  me  into  temptation.  But  I  re- 
sisted with  an  iron  resolution. 

As  a  new  mode  of  attack,  some  would  come  to  the  prayer- 
meeting  for  the  purpose  of  picking  up  some  of  my  remarks, 
and  then,  when  they  met  or  saw  me  on  the  street,  they" 
would  sing  out,  "There  goes  the  pious  devil;"  and  then 
would  repeat  in  taunting  ways  some  expression  they  heard 
me  use  in  meeting. 

While  here  I  was  sexton  of  the  church  of  which  Rev. 
Calvin  Brookius  was  pastor;  so  one  night  I  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  the  cry  of  "Fire!  fire!"  and  a  terrible  rattling 
at  my  door.  As  I  had  the  keys  to  the  only  church  in  town 
which  contained  a  bell,  I  sprang  out  of  bed  and  hastened 
to  ring  the  alarm.  There  was  a  strong  wind,  and  the  fire- 
demon,  in  about  three  hours,  laid  eleven  stores  in  ashes. 
This  was  a  severe  blow  to  our  village. 

The  following  June  we  were  again  visited  by  a  confla- 
gration, sweeping  away  four  grain  warehouses,  and  leaving 
40,000  bushels  of  grain  in  ashes.  The  next  morning  after 
the  fire,  men   could  be  seen   hastening   along  the    street, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  143 

• 

wringing  their  hands  and  exclaiming  in  bitter  anguish,  "  I 
am  a  ruined  man!" 

Shortly  after,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Burk  was  suspect- 
ed, and  one  dark,  dismal  morning  was  taken  into  an  upper 
room,  and,  ere  1  o'clock,  was  hanging,  a  corpse,  from  the 
tliird  story  window.  Oh,  what  an  hour  this  was  in  my 
experience!  It  would  be  vain  to  describe  my  feelings  as 
I  attempted  to  gaze  upon  the  aged,  gray-haired  man 
struggling  between  life  and  death.  The  day  was  dark  and 
gloomy.  Storm  clouds  chased  each  other  athwart  the  sky, 
and  anon  poured  out  upon  the  earth  torrents  of  rain,  ac- 
companied by  thunder  and  lightning.  All  nature  seemed 
draped  in  mourning.  As  the  man  was  being  thrust  out 
of  the  window,  a  chain  of  lightning  flashed  across  the  lurid 
sky,  and  shone  on  the  ghastly  form,  and  a  peal  of  thunder 
shook  the  crowded  hall  as  if  the  Almighty  had  frowned  on 
a  deed  so  dark.  The  vast  assembly  swayed  to  and  fro  like 
a  reed  in  the  wind,  panic  stricken  at  the  work  of  their  own 
hands.  At  sundown  the  corpse  was  conveyed  in  a  pine 
box,  and  this  in  an  old  lumber  wagon,  to  its  final  resting 
place.  Thus  ended  the  most  tragic  and  fearful  day  of  my 
life. 

As  usual,  my  mind  was  busy  with  the  true  causes  of  such 
an  act.  The  man,  beyond  a  doubt,  committed  a  great 
crime  and  brought  distress  to  many  homes,  and  also  did 
those  commit  sin  who  took  the  law  into  their  own  hands. 
Sin  expresses  it.  How  short  the  word.  Only  three  little 
letters;  and  yet  in  that  one  brief  syllable  are  compressed 
all  the  woes  of  earth,  all  the  agonies  of  perdition.  Sin — 
all  the  crimes  and  follies,  the  wrongs  and  miseries  of  six 
thousand  3'ears  of  human  history  epitomized.  Sin — three 
tiny  clicking  types  express  it.  But  how  gigantic,  how 
fearful  a  monster!  Sin — black  with  countless  millions  of 
horrors,  and  red  with  oceans  of  gore.  On  all  God's  beau- 
tiful earth  there  is  not  a  spot  unpolluted  by  its  hideous 


144  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

footprints.  On  land  or  sea,  fruni  pole  to  ])()le,  there's  not 
a  breeze  whose  wings  are  not  laden  with  its  poisonous 
breath.  Sin — where  has  it  not  entered?  It  crept  into 
heaven  in  ambitions  guise.  Its  baleful  whispers  were  heard 
amid  the  fra<rrant  bowers  of  Paradise.  It  bathed  the  hands 
of  earth' 8  first -born  son  in  fratricidal  blood.  It  rolled  the 
destroying  billows  of  the  deluge  over  a  world  steeped  in 
its  wickedness.  It  reared  and  razed  the  proud  battlements 
of  Babylon  and  Xineveh.  It  has  poured  out  enough  hu- 
man blood  to  fill  the  ocean's  mighty  reservoirs,  and  float 
all  the  navies  in  creation.  It  has  wrung  from  anguished 
eves  tears  enouich  to  feed  all  the  rivers  and  lakes  on  our 
planet.  It  has  extorted  every  groan  and  sigh  that  ever 
pierced  the  pitying  ear  of  Omniscience.  It  has  inspired 
all  the  Xeros,  Herods,  Caligulas,  Xapoleons,  and  Quantrells. 
It  has  swept  with  carnage-crimsoned,  desolating  tread  be- 
neath the  banner  of  Caesar  and  Tamerlane.  It  has  brought 
down  fire  from  heaven  upon  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  and 
Jerusalem.  Beneath  the  aged  olives  of  Gethsemane  it 
crushed  the  gentle  spirit  of  the  Son  of  God.  What  won- 
der is  it  that  God  hates  sin,  or  that  men  sometimes  shudder 
at  the  acts  of  tlieir  own  liands?  And  in  this  is  the  solution 
why  that  crowded  hall  of  human  beings  turned  ghastly  pale 
and  their  hearts  were  terror-stricken. 

But  it  was  now  midsummer,  and  I  wanted  to  make  a 
visit  among  my  old  associates  and  friends  at  Kingston. 
My  employer  readily  granted  my  request. 

Accordingly,  having  perfected  my  arrangements,  I  set 
out  to  visit  Kingston.  Taking  the  night  train,  I  arrived 
at  DeKall)  Center  about  midnight.  The  air  was  so  bland 
and  the  heavens  above  me  so  lovely,  that  I  purposed  walk- 
ing over  to  Kingston,  a  distance  of  twelve  miles,  the  after 
part  of  this  night,  for  I  loved  to  meditate  in  the  quiet 
hours  when  the  world  is  hushed  in  silence. 

God  has  created  u.-  rational,  intelligent  beings.     lie  has 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  145 

endowed  us  with  powers  of  perception.  He  has  imprinted 
upon  our  souls  the  love  of  the  beautiful.  He  bids  us  to 
drink  deep  of  the  manifold  displays  of  His  wisdom.  On 
every  hand  may  be  seen  the  hand-writing  of  Omnipotent 
power,  and  we  lose  much  of  the  real  enjoyment  of  life,  if 
we  never  step  out  into  the  grand  temple  of  nature  and 
"consider" — study — our  Creator's  beneficence,  not  only 
in  the  grandeur  of  the  lofty  cedars  of  Lebanon  and  the 
trees  of  the  forest  "  clapping  their  hands  for  joy,"  but  in 
the  "  lilies  of  the  valley."  Often,  when  my  soul  was  with 
anguish  riven,  have  I  found  a  sweet  solace,  a  heavenly  balm, 
by  plucking  some  wayside  flower  and  admiring  its  beauty, 
its  loveliness,  its  fragrance,  until  my  heart  seemed  to  for- 
get all  its  ills. 

Passing  through  the  slumbering  village,  I  hastened  along 
the  country  road  until,  all  absorbed  in  admiration,  I  gazed 
upon  the  vernal  fields,  foliaged  groves,  waving  grain.  The 
moon  shone  upon  meadow  and  fields  and  woodlands,  with 
her  mild,  soft,  silvery  light.  The  bright,  twinkling  stars, 
golden  gems  on  night's  blue  page,  looked  so  fair  and 
pleasing  that  I  exclaimed,  "  How  wonderful,  O  God,  are 
thy  works !"  It  was  a  fitting  hour  for  meditation.  I  raised 
my  eyes  heavenward,  and  beholding  the  display  of  infinite 
goodness,  I  thought  of  the  welcome  time  when  the  blessed 
Savior  shall  come  again  in  his  own  glory,  accompanied  by 
the  angels,  and  with  a  voice  that  shall  wake  the  sleeping 
nations,  bid  the  weary  pilgrims  of  earth  throw  off  their 
mortality  and  rise  into  newness  of  eternal  life.  Oh,  wel- 
comed time,  when,  disrobed  of  mortality,  we  shall  be  trans- 
ported beyond  the  sorrows  of  life  to  the  fair  Eden  of  im- 
mortality, where  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  is 
established  on  the  ages  of  eternity!  Oh,  the  rapturous 
gaze,  as  we  shall  for  the  first  time  behold  the  angels  and 
just  men  made  perfect,  the  crystal  fountains  and  the  sea  of 
glass,  the  river  of  life  rolling  down  its  golden  sands,  the 
10 


146  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ambrosial  fruits  upon  its  vernal  banks,  the  emerald  fields, 
and  the  tree  whose  fruit  shall  be  for  the  healing  of  the 
nations!  There  we  shall  live  in  eternal  youth.  No  malady 
of  earth  shall  fade  or  mar  our  beauty!  On  angel  wing, 
with  the  speed  of  the  swiftly-rushing  wind,  we  shall  take 
our  flight  to  those  worlds  that  shine  so  lovely  upon  me  to- 
iiitrht,  and  explore  their  continents,  look  upon  and  admire 
their  lofty  mountains,  extensive  rivers,  deep-foliaged  forests, 
wide  oceans,  inland  seas,  fertile  plains,  and  converse  with 
their  inhabitants,  who,  perhaps,  never  passed  the  fiery 
ordeal  of  sin;  and  after  spending  a  million  of  years — if 
time  in  that  better  land  is  measured  by  years — we  shall 
return  to  the  Father,  our  hearts  filled  with  wonder  and  joy, 
and,  casting  our  crowns  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  is  worthy 
to  receive  honor  and  power  and  dominion,  we  shall  exclaim, 
**0  God,  how  manifold  are  thy  ^orks,  and  thy  wisdom  and 
goodness  passeth  knowledge!"  While  thus  meditating, 
*'  Aurora,  leaving  the  safi*ron  bed  of  Tithonus,  first  spread 
the  earth  over  with  early  light,"  painting  on  the  morning 
sky  such  hues  as  no  artist  can  paint,  striking  with  her 
golden  tinsel  the  stars  from  the  azure  sky;  then  awoke  the 
feathered  tribes,  and  made  the  heavens  vocal  with  their 
oratorio;  whilst  forth  from  the  gates  of  the  east  issued  the 
orb  of  day.  I  arrived  at  my  destination  well  repaid  for 
mv  niorht's  adventure. 

In  August,  1861,  Mr.  Howlett  sold  his  office  and  set  up 
a  saloon,  to  try  his  fortune  in  dealing  out  poor  liquor  to 
depraved  appetites  instead  of  sound  truths  to  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  men.  I  felt  very  bad  over  this  change,  as 
IMr.  Howlett  was  an  excellent  man,  and  was  worthy  of  a 
better  business.  Being  thrown  out  of  my  situation,  I  came 
to  Eockford — making  the  distance  on  foot  under  an  August 
sun.  1  arrived  about  8  o'clock  in  the  evening.  This 
time  I  asked  for  no  accommodation,  but  passed  the  first 
night  in  a  freight  car.     Thus  I  passed  the  first  night  in  the 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  147 

city  of  ray  future  home  and  the  home  of  the  Censer,  in  a, 
freight-car,  having  nothing  but  a  small  bundle  for  a  pil- 
low, and  the  car  floor  for  my  bed. 

The  next  day  I  applied  at  every  office  in  the  city  for 
work,  but  without  success.  At  last  I  resolved  to  work  for 
my  board,  and  my  services  were  accepted  by  the  Blaisdells, 
of  the  Hepuhlican.  But  this  was  not  the  place  of  my 
choice,  yet  I  made  the  best  of  my  circumstances  possible. 
The  first  night  in  my  new  quarters  I  had  to  spend  in  a 
saloon  with  the  roughs  until  midnight,  when  I  had  to 
carry  telegrams  for  the  paper  until  one  o'clock,  and  at  last 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  was  shown  to  a  misera- 
ble apology  for  a  bed — it  was  not  as  inviting  as  the  car 
floor  bed  of  the  previous  night. 

I  will  here  observe  that  the  reason  why  I  sat  in  the 
saloon  was  that  I  was  anxious  to  hold  my  situation  and 
wanted  to  be  on  hand  when  the  foreman — who  spent  the 
evening  there — saw  proper  to  send  me  for  the  night  dis- 
patches. Both  the  language  and  the  silly  card  playing 
were  repulsive  to  my  nature,  and  as  for  the  liquor;  I  would 
no  more  have  been  persuaded  to  drink,  than  to  destroy  my 
own  life.  Whatever  failures  in  life  I  might  make,  I  pur- 
posed never  to  become  a  drunkard.  This  resolution  I 
observed  with  such  firmness  that  I  allowed  myself  to  drink 
nothing  but  cold  water  summer  or  winter  through  all  the 
years  of  my  apprenticeship  and  school-days. 

But  my  stay  with  the  Blaisdells  was  only  for  three  days, 
at  the  end  of  which  time  I  found  another  situation,  and 
continued  my  apprenticeship  under  the  instruction  of  E. 
C.  Daugherty,  editor  of  the  Begister.  Mr.  Daugherty 
was  a  Christian  gentleman,  a  member  of  the  M.  E.  Church, 
and  his  office  was  a  desirable  place  in  which  to  work  —  it 
being  the  largest  establishment  in  the  city.  Upon  the' 
whole,  my  opportunities  and  advantages  for  becoming  a 
thorough  printer  were  much  better  than  at  Kochelle.     I 


148  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

was  also  highly  pleased  with  the  city,  for  I  found  it  not 
only  beautifully  situated  on  both  banks  of  Rock  River, 
with  wide  and  handsomely  shaded  streets,  but  it  was  a  city 
of  churches — of  which  there  were  fifteen.  It  also  con- 
tained many  beautiful  buildings,  both  public  and  private. 
The  industry,  enterprise  and  intelligence  of  the  people 
was  also  marked.  In  such  a  home  as  this,  the  reader  may 
well  be  assured,  I  improved  both  my  time  and  opportuni- 
ties. All  my  leisure  hours  were  occupied  in  pursuing  my 
studies.  While  here  I  had  access  to  the  city  library,  and 
while  other  youths  spent  their  time  and  money  in  visiting 
saloons,  smoking  cigars,  attending  shows  and  having  a 
good  time  generally,  I  was  in  my  room  storing  my  mind 
with  useful  knowledge.  I  would  very  often  be  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  contents  of  a  book  as  to  study  past  midnight. 
I  read  the  histories  of  Greece,  of  Rome,  of  Germany,  of 
France,  of  England;  I  read  Josephus,  histories  of  the 
Oriental  cities;  works  on  philosophy,  astronomy  and  the 
sciences;  biographies  of  eminent  men  in  the  past  and 
present.  These  were  my  pastimes.  Indeed,  I  had  a  book 
in  my  hand  from  the  time  that  I  entered  the  house  until  I 
left  it,  and  I  never  went  to  any  place  unless  to  meeting 
or  to  hear  some  lecture;  hence  I  was  comparatively  very 
little  known. 

I  have  often  wondered  as  I  look  back  on  the  mine  of 
wealth  and  real  enjoyment  there  is  in  perusing  the  histo- 
ries of  other  times,  and  living  as  it  were  in  the  golden 
ages  of  the  past,  how  people  possessed  of  a  sound  mind 
and  right  reason  could  fritter  away  the  precious  moments 
of  life  in  reading  shallow  and  sickening  tales.  Could  I 
but  persuade  our  youth,  who  are  fast  growing  up  into 
miuihood  and  womanhood,  to  choose  wisdom's  part,  I 
•would  feel  amply  rewarded  for  this  faithful  admonition.  I 
am  pained  to  see  so  many  of  our  young  folks  giving  them- 
selves up  to  light,  trashy   reading;   spending   the  golden 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  149 

moments  of  early  life  in  perverting  their  tastes,  weaken- 
ing their  mental  powers,  unfitting  themselves  for  solid, 
substantial  reading,  exciting  a  morbid  sensation — feeding 
their  immortal  souls  on  the  vain  and  empty  imagery  of 
some  love-sick,  brainless,  dissipated  maniac,  who  might  do 
a  better  service  to  his  generation  by  going  to  work  and  in 
earninor  an  honest  livinp". 

Oh!  Christian  fathers  and  mothers,  let  "eternal  vigi- 
lance," be  written  in  flaming  letters  over  the  tender  years 
of  your  dear  children! 

I  do  not  know  where  the  notion  first  obtained  that  life 
now,  to  be  tolerable,  must  be  spiced  with  condiments  of 
the  keenest  and  most  titillating  sort.  Each  fresh  gratifi- 
cation quickly  palls,  and  new  devices  must  constantly  be 
brought  forward  to  stimulate  the  jaded  sense.  The  theater 
is  radiant  with  voluptuous  images,  and  thousands  swarm 
nightly  to  gloat  on  the  female  charms  their  clouds  of 
gauze  scarcely  afifect  to  conceal.  Gross  pictures  are  hawked 
about  the  streets,  and  obscene  books  are  oflfered  to  boys 
and  grey-beards  alike,  in  the  exchange  and  market-place. 
The  newspapers  strain  every  nerve  to  outstrip  each  other 
in  the  astonishing,  the  pre^Dosterous,  and  the  extravagant; 
and  those  from  whose  occasional  exhibition  of  care, 
thought,  and  scholarship)  we  have  learned  to  hope  better 
things,  seem  of  late  to  have  abandoned  themselves  to  the 
worst  spirit  of  the  hour  and  to  have  plunged  bodily  into 
the  coarse  vortex  of  sensation.  Even  the  pulpit  in  some 
localities  yields  to  the  vulgar  tendencies  that  mar  nearly 
all  the  sacred  things,  and  some  of  the  most  influential  and 
successful  preachers,  who,  in  a  purer  and  more  cultivated 
age  would  be  simply  laughed  down  as  greedy  and  sensual 
charlatans,  are  producing  in  every  direction  their  legiti- 
mate efiect.  We  see  on  every  hand  false  views  of  life  usu- 
ally ending  in  bitter  disappointment,  minds  and  bodies 
prematurely  broken  and  withered. 


150  AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 

Perhaps  I  went  to  the  other  extreme,  but  if  I  did  it  was 
because  I  felt  the  need  of  informing  my  mind.  I  don't 
know  liow  I  appeared  to  tlie  young  people,  or  in  what  es- 
timation they  held  me,  for,  during  a  two  years'  stay  I  was 
only  found  at  one  church  sociable,  and  then  I  came  across 
one  of  Prof.  Upham's  works,  and  was  so  charmed  with  the 
contents  of  the  book,  that  I  sat  down  and  became  oblivious 
to  all  around  me  until  people  began  to  go  home.  And, 
while  the  young  men  went  home  with  their  "girls,"  I 
obtained  permission  and  went  home  with  the  book. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  state  that  few  discovered 
that  I  was  a  self-educated  boy.  I  overheard  people  several 
times  saying  that  I  was  remarkably  well-informed.  In- 
deed, more  than  once  did  I  write  compositions  for  scholars 
in  the  high  school  who  passed  them  oft*  as  their  own.  This 
was  not  honest  in  them,  nor  perhaps  in  me  to  write  them, 
but  I  obtained  the  training,  and  had  the  benefit  of  what- 
ever criticisms  the  principal  of  the  school  saw  proper  to 
pass  upon  the  compositions,  and  I  was  not  slow  to  profit 
by  them. 

Permit  me  to  add  here,  lest  I  be  misunderstood,  that  I 
cannot  justify  the  above.  It  was  dishonest,  though  at  that 
time  I  had  no  particular  conscience  in  the  matter.  To  every 
young  reader  we  would  say.  Be  yourself,  write  your  own 
compositions,  be  natural,  act  yourself,  do  not  pretend  to 
be  smarter  than  you  really  are,  for  then  will  there  be  a 
chance  for  improvement.  A  lazy  boy  or  girl  will  never 
make  a  bright  scholar.  For  to  be  a  scholar  requires  long 
ap{)lication,  patient  stud}^  and  unfiinching  determination 
to  succeed. 

I  do  not  know  what  unconscious  impressions  I  was 
making  upon  the  young  people  at  that  time,  for  it  is  well 
known  by  those  who  are  most  intimately  acquainted  with 
me  that  I  am  very  cheerful  in  spirits,  jovial  in  conversa- 
tion, and  often  have  a  real  unbending  time  in  social  chats; 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  151 

fancy  then,  how  surprised  I  was  when  a  young  lady  asked 
me,  since  my  return  from  college,  if  I  "  was  as  sour  as  I 
used  to  be^" 

While  I  believe  with  all  my  heart  in  sterling  piety,  and 
in  a  proper  deportment  before  the  world,  yet  I  have  no 
sympathy  with  hypocritical  canting.  What!  the  gospel 
gloomy,  its  fruits  sour?  It  cannot  be.  It  is  an  anthem 
from  the  harps  of  heaven;  the  music  of  the  river  of  life 
washing  its  shores  on  high,  and  pouring  in  cascades  upon 
the  earth.  ^N^ot  so  cheerful  was  the  son^:  of  the  mornino: 
stars,  nor  shout  of  the  sons  of  God  so  joyful.  Gushing 
from  the  fountains  of  eternal  harmony,  it  was  first  heard 
on  earth  in  a  low  tone  of  solemn  gladness,  uttered  in  Eden 
by  the  Lord  God  himself  This  gave  the  keynote  of  the 
gospel  song.  Patriarchs  caught  it  up  and  taught  it  to  the 
generations  following.  It  breathed  from  the  harp  of  .the 
psalmist,  and  rang  like  a  clarion  from  tower  and  mountain 
top  as  prophets  proclaimed  the  year  of  jubilee.  Fresh 
notes  from  heaven  have  enriched  the  harmony,  as  the  I^ord 
of  hosts  and  his  angels  have  revealed  new  promises,  and 
called  on  the  suffering  children  of  Zion  to  be  joyful  in  their 
King.  From  bondage  and  exile,  from  dens  and  caves,  from 
bloody  fields,  and  fiery  stakes,  and  peaceful  deathbeds,  have 
they  answered  in  tones  which  have  cheered  the  disconsolate, 
and  made  oppressors  shake  upon  their  thrones;  while  sun 
and  moon,  and  all  the  stars  of  night,  stormy  wind  fulfilling 
his  word,  the  roaring  sea  and  the  fullness  thereof,  mountains 
and  hills,  fruitful  fields,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  wood,  have 
rejoiced  before  the  Lord,  and  the  coming  of  his  Anointed, 
for  the  redemption  of  his  people  and  the  glory  of  his  holy 
name.  When  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  have  thus 
rendered  universal  creation  joyful,  the  gospel  of  peace  can 
never  make  any  one  sour,  but  it  does  make  one  calm  and 
hopeful. 

A  young  man  living  in  a  city  without  the  gentle  re- 


152  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

straints  of  the  liome  circle,  is  necessarily  exposed  to  many 
temptations  and  allurements  of  the  devil.  Though,  per- 
haps, I  was  not  so  sorely  tempted  as  many  are,  because  I 
did  not  put  myself  in  the  way  of  the  tempter,  yet  I  had 
to  resist  him  sometimes,  for  he  would  unbidden  throw 
himself  in  my  way.  I  will  only  give  one  or  two  illustra- 
tions, and  pass: 

One  beautiful  evening  in  June,  as  I  was  walking  down 
Court  street,  I  met  two  young  ladies,  one  of  whom  with  a 
smile  said,  "Oh,  Mr.  Lemley!  we  are  so  glad  to  see  you, 
we  seldom  see  you  on  the  streets.  It's  such  a  warm  even- 
ing, do  come  with  us  down  to  the  saloon  and  have  a  dish 
of  ice  cream!" 

I  replied,  "  1  would  be  much  pleased  to  accept  your  in- 
vitation, but  as  I  never  visit  saloons,  I  cannot  comply  with 
your  wishes.  I  am  on  my  way  to  prayer-meeting,  and 
would  be  pleased  to  have  your  company  thither."  They 
turned  and  left  me. 

Upon  another  time,  as  I  was  on  my  way  to  hear  a  lecture, 
a  young  man  rushed  up  and  accosted  me  as  follows  : 

"  How  in  the  d 1  do  you  make  out  to  keep  cool  on 

such  a  hot  evening  as  this  ?" 

I  replied,   "  Be  patient  and  I  will  give  yuu  the  secret." 

"  Be  patient !"  he  shouted,  "  how  can  any  one  be  patient 
when  their  insides  are  melting  ?"  Thus  saying,  he  took 
me  by  the  arm,  and  dragging  me  towards  a  saloon,  con- 
tinued, "  Come,  let's  take  something  to  drink,  I  be  d d 

if  I'm  not  burning  up  alive." 

"  Keep  cool,"  I  kindly  replied,  "  down  yonder  is  Kock 
River.  I  will  watch  for  signs  of  fire,  and  if  you  should 
ignite,  with  your  permission  I  will  plunge  you  into  it, 
only  do  not  go  near  a  saloon  to-night." 

''  Oh,  excuse  mo!"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  forgot  that  you  are 
a  deacon;  but  suppose  you  stir  up  your  spirits  by  taking 

a  Miorn;'  your  a  d n  good  fellow;  the  only  fault  you 

have  is  your  old  fogyism." 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  153 

Of  course  I  stoutly  refused,  and  went  to  the  lecture, 
while  my  friend  stopped  at  the  saloon,  as  have  thousands 
of  youths,  to  get  cool. 

But  the  summer  was  a  wonderfully  lively  one.  From 
the  hills  and  from  the  plains,  from  palace  hall  and  cottage 
home,  the  nation's  noblest  boys  were  falling  into  line  and 
marching  to  bloody  fields  of  battle.  As  Eockford  was  one 
of  the  headquarters  for  this  section  of  country,  all  this 
summer  and  autumn  the  marching  of  troops,  the  rattle  of 
drums,  the  display  of  flags,  kept  up  a  continual  excitement. 
In  those  dark,  terrible  days  of  war,  w4ien  the  nation  was 
wrapped  in  mourning,  and  so  many  homes  were  made 
desolate;  when  from  the  Rocky  Mountain's  eastern  slope 
to  the  Potomac's  swiftly-flowing  stream,  God's  green 
fields  were  black  with  battle  smoke;  when  rivers  ran  red 
with  the  blood  of  slaughtered  thousands ;  when  the  earth 
drank  in  life's  crimson  current,  it  would  hardly  be  in  keep- 
ing with  the  purpose  of  this  narrative  to  enter  into  the 
account  of  the  many  thrilling  scenes  which  were  constant 
\y  being  enacted  all  over  the  land.  In  passing,  I  can  only 
add  that  our  city  sent  many  brave  soldiers  to  the  field, 
and  frequently  was  it  called  upon  to  pay  its  last  tributes  of 
respect  to  its  fallen  heroes. 

Times  change,  and  boys  during  the  days  of  war  sprung 
up,  like  Jonah's  gourd,  in  a  night  to  full  manhood.  At 
least  so  it  seemed.  For  I  was  astonislied  when  I  learned 
that  "Warren  Wait,  one  of  my  playmates  in  my  mountain 
home,  had  become  a  soldier,  marched  to  the  front,  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  was  now  in  Camp  Douglas,  Chicago. 
Upon  learning  this  I  hastened  to  see  him.  And  there,  in 
that  camp,  we  spent  six  of  the  shortest  hours  of  our  lives 
in  recounting  the  past,  noting  the  changes,  and  relating 
events.  Then  together  we  partook  of  a  soldier's  meal, 
after  which  we  took  our  farewell,  and  have  never  seen  each 
other  since. 


154  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Notwitlistaiiding  I  spent  all  my  spare  hours  in  study, 
yet  I  never  lost  an  opportunity  when  it  presented  itself  to 
earn  a  little  pocket  money.  And  this  I  often  did  by  stick- 
ing up  posters  or  handbills.  My  fellow-apprentices  often 
derided  and  upbraided  me  for  my  improving  small  oppor- 
tunities They  would  spurn  the  quarters  and  half-dollars 
thus  earned.  Thev  had  set  their  mark  high,  and  would 
unlv  do  the  crreat  thino:s.  How  often  I  reflected  on  their 
words,  and  wondered  if  in  after  years  they  would  bless  the 
world  with  their  learning  or  genius.  I  had  observed  well 
the  characteristics  of  great  men,  and  I  found  that  he  who 
would  rule  well  must  first  serve;  that  the  young  man  who 
scorns  to  do  little  things  may  never  have  the  opportunity 
to  do  the  great  things,  for  the  things  that  are  deemed  great 
are  often  actually  small;  and  things  that  seem  small  are 
often  great  in  their  bearings  and  consequences.  Trifles 
lighter  than  straws  are  often  the  feathers  that  turn  the  scale 
of  character  and  destiny. 

The  vast  events  and  phenomena  of  the  earth  are  gradual 
in  their  progress  and  slow  in  their  growth ;  whatever  comes 
to  pass  suddenly  commonly  passes  away  suddenly.  Jonah's 
gourd  grew  up  in  a  night,  but  perished  in  the  morning. 
Startling  theories  and  speculations  that  break  forth  upon 
the  world  like  the  sun  from  behind  a  cloud,  or  like  the 
lightning  that  turns  the  cloud  and  night  into  a  flame,  soon 
sift  upon  the  earth  their  expiring  ashes.  Excitements  in 
church  or  state  that  spring  themselves  upon  the  world,  and 
dash  or  flash  alono:  the  times  like  meteors  or  theliirhtninirs, 
are  soon  followed  by  denser  darkness.  AVe  shall  find,  by 
careful  noticing  of  things,  that  great  and  valuable  results 
are  usually  of  gradual  trrowth,  from  slight  original  causes; 
the  little  leaven  in  iis  gradual  operations,  leavening  the 
whole  lump.  The  least  of  all  seeds  becomes  a  great  tree, 
under  the  branches  of  which  the  birds  of  heaven  come  and 
shelter  themselves.     The  vast  river  rolls  on  to  the  sea;  it 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  155 

leaps  cataracts,  floats  navies,  impels  mighty  machinery, 
and  inundates  wide  regions  of  country;  but  it  started,  it 
may  be,  in  the  crevice  of  a  rock,  or  in  a  dewdrop  not  big- 
ger than  a  tear.  Great  islands  and  archipelagoes,  the  seat, 
perhaps,  of  mighty  empires,  are  the  work,  often,  of  very 
little  animals,  that  build  them  up  slowly  from  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  It  is  said  that  a  whisper  slightly  stirs  the  air 
around  the  globe.  Touch  the  restless  sea  anywhere  with 
the  tip  of  your  finger,  and  you  move  relatively  the  whole 
ocean.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  our  every  word, 
and  act,  and  whisper,  in  its  influence  upon  the  moral  world 
and  upon  eternity,  is  like  the  results  just  named.  Such  is 
the  moral  and  social  machinery,  that  there  is  needed  often 
only  the  touching  of  a  match,  the  pressing  of  a  spring,  or 
turning  of  a  valve,  to  start  a  tremendous  train  of  conse- 
quences. The  pebble  from  the  sling  of  the  shepherd  boy, 
which  he  picked  up  out  of  a  little  brook,  was  a  little  thing, 
but  it  decided  the  fate  of  two  armies  and  of  two  nations. 
The  eating  of  an  apple  led  to  the  world's  fall,  and  the  fall- 
ing of  an  apple  to  the  world's  philosophy.  The  mariner's 
needle  and  its  play  are  little  matters,  but  the  discovery  of 
great  continents,  and  the  carrying  on  of  the  world's  com- 
merce are  not  little  matters.  The  nice  touches  and  shades 
given  by  the  skillful  artist  to  his  painting  are  little  matters, 
but  little  here  makes  perfection.  The  sculptor  does  not 
mold  the  human  countenance  at  once.  A  thousand  blows 
roughcast  it,  says  one,  and  ten  thousand  chisel  points  polish 
and  perfect  it,  and  bring  out  the  exact  features  and  the 
living  expression.  It  is  a  work  of  time.  So  do  human 
influences  and  actions  chisel  out  slowly  our  fixed  character 
and  habits.  Every  day  adds  something  to  the  slow  work. 
The  little  dropping  insensibly  wears  the  solid  rock  that 
laughs  at  the  storm  and  defies  the  surges  of  the  sea.  Achan's 
wedge  of  gold  was  a  little  thing,  but  it  led  to  vast  results. 
The  two  mites  of  the  poor  widow  were  a  little  sum,  but, 


156  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

measured  by  their  motive,  they  were  perhaps  the  largest 
contribution  ever  made  to  Christian  charity.  The  colors 
in  Joseph's  coat  were  little  things,  but  his  reigning  over 
Egypt  was  not.  The  ark  of  bulrushes  was  a  little  thing, 
but  the  giving  of  the  moral  law  was  not;  leading  the 
Israelites  from  bondage  to  Canaan  was  not.  There  is  power 
in  littles. 

Tliink  nought  a  trifle,  though  it  small  appear; 
Small  sands  the  mountains  make,  atoms  the  world, 
Moments  make  the  year,  and  trifles  time,  and  this  eternity. 

A  tract,  if  no  more,  it  may  be,  tlian  two  leaves,  from  the 
hand  of  a  servant  girl,  perhaps,  lead  to  the  conversion  of 
DO  less  than  Richard  Baxter.  He  awoke  to  a  world  of 
usefulness.  Among  the  library  of  books  he  wrote  was  the 
*'Call  to  the  Unconverted."  It  fell  into  the  hands  of  Philip 
Doddridge.  It  led  him  to  Christ.  Doddridge  too,  awoke 
to  a  world  of  usefulness.  His  "  Eise  and  Progress  "  was 
the  means  of  the  awakening  of  William  Wilberforce.  A 
book  of  his  writing  led  to  the  salvation  of  Leigh  Rich- 
mond. He  wrote  the  "Dairyman's  Daughter"  that  fell 
upon  the  world  like  a  leaf  from  heaven.  Hundreds  have 
been  brought  to  Christ  by  that  one  sweet  tract.  Is  there 
no  power  in  littles?  Whoever  waits  to  do  wonders  in  this 
world,  forgets  or  never  knew  how  God  does  his  wonders, 
how  he  made  the  wurld  and  the  great  waters,  by  the  doing 
of  a  well-nigh  infinite  number  of  little  things;  and  how 
he  empowers  us  to  do  little  things;  to  wit.,  by  doing  little 
things  always  and  well.  He  who  waits  to  do  wonders  in 
this  world,  in  any  other  way  than  by  doing  little  duties 
well,  will  have  to  bewail  at  last  a  life  lost,  a  soul  lost,  an 
eternity  lost. 

Little  acts  are  the  elements  of  true  greatness.  They 
raise  life's  value,  like  the  little  figures  over  the  larger  ones 
in  arithmetic,  to  its  highest  power.     They  are  the  tests  of 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  157 

character  and  disinterestedness.  Thej  are  the  straws  upon 
life's  deceitful  current,  that  show  the  current's  way.  The 
heart  comes  all  out  in  them.  They  move  on  the  dial  of 
character  and  responsibility  significantly.  They  indicate 
the  character  and  destiny.  They  help  to  make  the  immor- 
tal man.  It  matters  not  so  much  where  we  are  as  what  we 
are.  It  is  seldom  that  acts  of  moral  heroism  are  called 
for.  Rather,  the  real  heroism  of  life  is,  do  all  its  little 
duties  promptly  and  faithfully. 

During  the  following  winter  as  I  was  on  my  way  from 
the  office  one  evening,  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
crowd  of  boys  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Curious 
to  know  what  afforded  them  so  much  sport,  I  crossed  over, 
when  I  beheld  a  shocking  sight.  A  young  man,  scarcely 
out  of  his  "  teens,"  lay  upon  the  sidew^alk  intoxicated. 
He  was  a  noble-looking  youth,  and  as  he  lay  there,  a  ruth- 
less lot  of  boys  kicking  snow  in  his  face,  I  felt  so  sad,  for 
upon  his  brow  seemed  the  imprint  of  innocence.  As  I 
passed  along  I  thought  of  the  misery  and  sorrow  this  dire 
demon — this  destroyer  of  our  peace — had  brought  upon  me. 
Oh,  had  I  the  power,  I  would  write  over  every  saloon  in 
the  land  in  letters  of  fire,  ''''This  is  the  ante-room  of  hellP^ 
Oh,  youth!  touch  not,  handle  not,  taste  not  this  destroyer 
of  your  manhood;  for  at  the  last  it  biteth  like  an  adder. 

Oh,  why  should  our  young  men  seek  to  find  happiness 
in  such  degrading  stimulants?  As  I  slowly  walked  to  my 
boarding  place  I  thought  of  the  burning  and  eloquent 
words  of  Paul  Denton,  the  missionary,  who,  to  appease  the 
people,  and  in  answer  to  "Where  is  the  liquor?"  answered 
in  a  tone  of  thunder,  and  pointing  his  long,  bony  fingers 
at  the  matchless  double  spring  gushing  up  in  two  strong 
columns  with  a  sound  like  a  shout  of  joy,  from  the  bosom 
of  the  earth: 

"  There,"  he  repeated,  with  a  look  terrible  as  lightning, 
while  his  enemy  actually  trembled  at  his  feet,  "  there  is 


160  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

Change  of  Purpose — At  School — In  Evanston — On  thb 
WAY  to  Middletown — Kew  England  Life — Curious 
People — The  Newtons — At  School  Again — Distress 
— Unexpected  Relief — Faith  in  God. 

I  continued  as  an  apprentice  until  fall.  In  the  mean- 
time it  was  impressed  upon  mj  mind  more  forcibly  than 
ever  before  that  I  ought  to  prepare  for  the  ministry.  In- 
deed I  regarded  my  loss  recited  in  the  last  chapter  as  a 
visitation  of  Providence  for  not  heeding  the  voice  of  con- 
science. 

Sometimes  it  is  said  that  after  we  fail  in  everything  else 
we  turn  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  But  this  can 
hardly  be  said  of  me,  as  I  was  a  successful  printer,  and 
loved  the  printing  art,  and  had  I  consulted  my  own  ease 
and  pleasure  I  would  have  continued  at  my  trade,  es- 
pecially as  I  had  just  completed  it,  and  the  prospects  and 
inducements  of  good  wages  were  before  me.  But  I  really 
felt  that  God  called  me  to  the  ministry.  This  was  no  sud- 
den change  of  mind,  but  I  had  the  conviction  more  or  less 
since  my  Oberlin  disappointment. 

With  these  things  revolving  in  my  mind,  I  came  and  told 
my  employer  my  conviction  of  duty,  and  after  consulting 
with  D.  P.  Kidder,  D.D.,  Professor  in  the  Theological  In- 
stitute at  Evanston,  111.,  and  with  Rev.  J.  II.  Yincent,  my 
pastor,  as  to  my  suitableness  fur  that  j)osition,  and  the  cor- 
rectness of  my  convictions — whether  I  was  really  called  of 
God — I  gave  up  all,  and  prepared  to  go  to  school. 

I  was  advised  first  to  graduate  from  the  public  schools  of 
Rockford.     Having  at  least  seven  years  of  hard  study  be 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  161 

fore  me,  and  neitlier  mone}^  nor  friends  to  aid  me  in  my 
efforts  in  obtaining  an  education,  I  resolved  to  tlirow  my- 
self entirely  on  Providence,  feeling  that  if  I  was  called  of 
God  he  would  open  a'way  somewhere  and  lead  me  into  it. 
The  thought  suggested  itself  to  me,  that  as  I  now  had  a 
trade,  I  could  adopt  my  Oberlin  plan  of  working  several 
hours  each  day ;  so  I  went  to  Mr.  Daugherty  and  told  him 
what  I  had  purposed  to  do,  and  asked  him  if  he  would 
give  me  employment,  and  how  many  hours  of  work  each 
day  would  be  a  fair  compensation  for  my  board  only.  He 
replied  that  he  would  board  me  if  I  would  work  four  hours 
each  day  and  all  of  Saturday.  I  stopped  a  moment  to  re- 
flect, then  said  I  thought  it  was  too  much,  for  allowing  me 
only  at  the  rate  of  twelve  dollars  a  week,  it  would  amount 
to  six  dollars  a  week — rather  dear  board.  But  he  did  not 
feel  disposed  to  lower  his  figures,  and  as  this  was  the  best 
1  could  do,  I  had  to  comply.  But  after  some  six  months' 
trial,  I  found  it  impossible  to  do  so  much  work  and  keep 
up  with  my  studies;  so  I  purposed  going  to  Evanston, 
which  place  held  out  great  inducements  to  poor,  struggling 
boys. 

Accordingly,  the  last  of  January,  1864,  giving  up  all 
the  dear  associations  which  I  had  formed,  and  which  were 
ever  prized  by  me,  I  set  out  for  Evanston.  As  I  passed 
down  Main  street  I  was  both  surprised  and  cheered  by  the 
friendly  encouragement  received  from  those  who  knew  my 
studious  habits.  As  one  and  another  extended  their  friend- 
ly hands  and  wished  me  success,  I  was  led  to  reflect  that 
one  scarcely  knows  how  many  friends  he  has  until  he  comes 
to  leave  them.     So  it  was  in  my  case. 

Reaching  the  depot  in  advance  of  the  train,  I  had  a  few 
moments  for  reflection.  I  thought  of  the  many  happy 
hours  I  had  spent  in  this  beautiful  inland  city;  of  tlie 
social  and  mental  privileges  itaftbrded  me;  of  the  reh'gious 
instruction  I  had  received;  of  t!ie  joyful  pastimes  in  the 
11 


160  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

Change  of  PcRrosE — At  School — In  Evanston — On  thb 
WAY  to  Middletown — New  England  Life — Curious 
People — The  Newtons — At  School  Again — Distress 
— Unexpected  Kelief — Faith  in  God. 

I  continued  as  an  apprentice  until  fall.  In  the  mean- 
time it  was  impressed  upon  mj  mind  more  forcibly  than 
ever  before  that  I  ought  to  prepare  for  the  ministry.  In- 
deed I  regarded  my  loss  recited  in  the  last  chapter  as  a 
visitation  of  Providence  for  not  heeding  the  voice  of  con- 
science. 

Sometimes  it  is  said  that  after  we  fail  in  evervthinoc  else 
we  turn  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  But  this  can 
hardly  be  said  of  me,  as  I  was  a  successful  printer,  and 
loved  the  printing  art,  and  had  I  consulted  my  own  ease 
and  pleasure  I  would  have  continued  at  my  trade,  es- 
pecially as  I  had  just  completed  it,  and  the  prospects  and 
inducements  of  good  wages  were  before  me.  But  I  really 
felt  that  God  called  me  to  the  ministry.  This  was  no  sud- 
den change  of  mind,  but  I  had  the  conviction  more  or  less 
since  my  Oberlin  disappointment. 

With  these  things  revolving  in  my  mind,  I  came  and  told 
my  employer  my  conviction  of  duty,  and  after  consulting 
with  D.  P.  Kidder,  D.D.,  Professor  in  the  Theological  In- 
stitute at  Evanston,  111.,  and  with  Rev.  J.  II.  Vincent,  my 
pastor,  as  to  my  suitableness  for  that  position,  and  the  cor- 
rectness of  my  convictions — whether  I  was  really  called  of 
God — I  gave  up  all,  and  prepared  to  go  to  school. 

I  was  advised  first  to  graduate  from  the  public  schools  of 
Rockford.     Having  at  least   seven  vears  of  hard  studv  be 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  161 

fore  me,  and  neitlier  mone}^  nor  friends  to  aid  me  in  my 
efforts  in  obtaining  an  education,  I  resolved  to  throw  my- 
self entirely  on  Providence,  feeling  that  if  I  was  called  of 
God  he  would  open  a'way  somewhere  and  lead  me  into  it. 
The  thought  suggested  itself  to  me,  that  as  I  now  had  a 
trade,  I  could  adopt  my  Oberlin  plan  of  working  several 
hours  each  day;  so  I  went  to  Mr.  Daugherty  and  told  him 
what  I  had  purposed  to  do,  and  asked  him  if  he  would 
give  me  employment,  and  how  many  hours  of  work  each 
day  would  be  a  fair  compensation  for  my  board  only.  He 
replied  that  he  would  board  me  if  I  would  work  four  hours 
each  day  and  all  of  Saturday.  I  stopped  a  moment  to  re- 
flect, then  said  I  thought  it  was  too  much,  for  allowing  me 
only  at  the  rate  of  twelve  dollars  a  week,  it  would  amount 
to  six  dollars  a  week — rather  dear  board.  But  he  did  not 
feel  disposed  to  lower  his  figures,  and  as  this  was  the  best 
1  could  do,  I  had  to  comply.  But  after  some  six  months' 
trial,  I  found  it  impossible  to  do  so  much  work  and  keep 
up  with  my  studies;  so  I  purposed  going  to  Evanston, 
which  place  held  out  great  inducements  to  poor,  struggling 
boys. 

Accordingly,  the  last  of  January,  1864,  giving  up  all 
the  dear  associations  which  I  had  formed,  and  which  were 
ever  prized  by  me,  I  set  out  for  Evanston.  As  I  passed 
down  Main  street  I  was  both  surprised  and  cheered  by  the 
friendly  encouragement  received  from  those  who  knew  my 
studious  habits.  As  one  and  another  extended  their  friend- 
ly hands  and  wished  me  success,  I  was  led  to  reflect  that 
one  scarcely  knows  how  many  friends  he  has  until  he  comes 
to  leave  them.     So  it  was  in  my  case. 

Keaching  the  depot  in  advance  of  the  train,  I  had  a  few 
moments  for  reflection.  I  thought  of  the  many  happy 
hours  I  had  spent  in  this  beautiful  inland  city;  of  the 
social  and  mental  privileges  itaftbrded  me;  of  the  religious 
instruction  I  had  received;  of  the  joyful  pastimes  in  the 
11 


162  AUTOIilOGKAI'IIV. 

quiet  suinintr  lioiir>,  when  all  nature  lauglied  for  very 
gladness;  of  tlie  morning  or  evening  walks  in  the  groves, 
along  the  meadow  brooks,  6r  along  the  banks  of  the  river; 
the  freshness  of  the  flowers,  the  sweetness  of  the  sylvan 
orchestra;  the  enchantment  in  looking  upon  fieldsof  waving 
grain,  or  the  groves  clad  in  their  vestments  of  green.  But 
all  these  associations  must  now  be  given  up — and  all  to 
prepare  myself  for  a  life  of  more  extended  usefulness  in 
my  Divine  Master's  service.  While  thus  musing,  the 
shrill  whistle  of  the  approaching  train  announced  to  me 
that  my  "  departure  was  at  hand." 

After  a  short  ride  I  arrived  at  Belvidere,  where  I  pur- 
posed spending  the  Sabbath  with  my  brother  Peter.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  just  four  years  previous  I  spent  the  Sab- 
bath in  this  city  under  very  similar  circumstances,  then  on 
my  way  to  Oberlin,  Ohio;  now  to  Evanston,  Illinois. 

Monday  morning,  upon  going  aboard  the  train,  I  very 
unexpectedly  fell  in  with  two  Rockford  students,  who  were 
on  their  way  to  the  same  school  tu  which  I  was  going,  so 
1  had  company  which  made  my  journey  very  pleasant. 

Evanston,  by  rail,  is  about  100  miles  from  Kockford,  and 
one  must  needs  go  through  Chicago.  But  the  trains  made 
close  connection,  so  we  arrived  at  our  destination  about  1 
o'clock.  Upon  stepping  from  the  cars  I  was  quite  curious 
to  take  observations  of  Evanston,  my  future  home,  and 
found  it  a  very  beautiful  village,  situated  on  the  western 
shore  of  lake  Michigan,  and  twelve  miles  north  of  Chicago, 
and  is  the  seat  of  the  Garrett  Biblical  Institute,  North- 
western University,  and  Northwestern  Female  College. 

Having  previously  been  invited  by  letter  to  call  on  Dr. 
Kidder,  I  at  once  sought  his  residence,  was  kindly  re- 
ceived, and  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  his  beautiful  home  for 
two  days.  I  found  Mrs.  Kidder  an  excellent  lady,  possess- 
ing many  spiritual  and  mental  attainments. 

While  here,  waiting  for  the  term  to  open,  for  I  had  ar- 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  163 

rived  two  days  in  advance,  I  went  down  to  the  lake  shore 
to  look  upon  the  grandeur  and  creative  powers  of  the  Al- 
mighty as  seen  in  the  deep.  If  one  wishes  to  have  a  sense 
of  his  own  littleness  and  insignificance,  let  him  walk  along 
the  sea-shore  and  look  upon  the  dark  blue  waters,  and  lis- 
ten to  the  roar  of  the  far-sounding  waves,  as  they  come, 
white-crested,  sweeping  in  and  crashing  along  the  beach. 
Truly  the  voice  of  many  waters  is  at  once  grand  and  awe- 
inspiring.     At  least  so  it  seemed  to  me. 

It  has  beautifully  been  said  that  every  mountain,  valley, 
river,  garden,  hillside,  flower  and  tree  reminds  one  of  the 
Divine  Master;  for  the  mountain  was  his  wonted  place  of 
prayer,  the  river,  where  he  was  baptized;  the  garden,  in 
which  he  suffered;  the  hillside,  where  he  taught  the  lesson 
of  the  vine  and  the  branch;  the  flowers  of  the  field  and 
the  lilies  of  the  valley,  his  illustration  of  true 'grandeur; 
the  fig-tree  received  his  curse  because  it  was  unfruitful,  and 
the  sea  was  hushed  bv  his  "Peace:  be  still."  I  thought  as 
I  walked  alono^  the  shore  of  the  lake,  what  a  strand  siofht  it 
must  have  been  to  see  omnipotent  power  exercised  in 
calming  the  troubled  sea.  What  a  consolation  to  have  the 
Master  in  the  ship.  Doubtless  the  earth  was  laden  with 
fragrance  and  melody  as  the  radiance  of  departing  day 
faded  on  the  Judean  hills;  the  shadows  gathered  in  the 
valleys,  and  crept  up  the  vine-clad  heights,  and  the  hush 
of  night  rested  reverently  upon  fair  scenes,  hallowed  by 
the  footsteps  of  Jesus.  A  beautiful  lake,  embosomed  amid 
verdant  loveliness,  sparkled  beneath  the  starry  brightness 
of  an  eastern  sky,  and  a  little  bark  glided  over  the  silvery 
expanse,  bearing  the  Master  and  his  disciples  on  an  errand 
of  mercy,  to  the  fierce  captive  among  the  Gadarean  tombs. 
Suddenly  the  shadows  deepened  and  darkened,  and  the 
blackness  of  the  tempest  cast  a  threatening  gloom  over  the 
uncertain  way.  In  nature's  weariness  Jesus  slept,  un- 
mindful of  the  wild  unrest  of  the  stormy  sea  whose  waves 


164  AUTOBIOOKAPIIY. 

rolled  over  the  frail  vessel,  as  if  to  hide  tnose  trembling 
watchers  in  their  cold  and  pitiless  embrace,  forever  awaj 
from  the  liglit  and  the  joy  of  life.  With  fearful  hearts 
they  awoke  the  sleeper  with  the  anxious  inquiry,  **  Carest 
thou  not  that  we  perish?"  Calmly  he  rose  and  looked  out 
upon  the  troubled  waters,  and  *' Peace!  be  still,"  thrilled 
the  darkness  and  the  tempest.  Nature,  in  her  wild  com- 
motion, acknowledged  the  voice  of  her  Master;  the  fair 
lake  reposed  as  quietly  as  a  sleeping  child,  for  '^  the  wind 
ceased  and  there  was  a  great  calm." 

The  cloud  and  sunshine  of  eighteen  hundred  years  have 
passed  away,  and  still  the  words  of  the  loving  Master  are 
echoing  upon  the  shores  of  Time.  The  blight  of  sin  dims 
the  loveliness  and  mars  the  music  of  earth,  but  the  discord 
of  many  a  soul  is  hushed  into  the  music  of  the  redeemed, 
as  they  come  out  of  the  darkness  and  lay  down  the  weapons  • 
of  rebellion  for  the  peace  "which  passeth  understanding." 
And  they  who  bear  the  consecrated  cross  often  need  the 
gentle  message.  There  are  murmurs  because  of  ungranted 
requests,  when  denial  is  a  blessing;  there  are  impatient 
waitings,  when  waiting  is  to  serve;  there  are  fiery  trials, 
purifying  mercies  of  the  great  Refiner,  and  there  are  hours 
of  danger  when  it  is  well  to  "  stand  still  and  see  the  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord." 

After  being  duly  initiated,  I  found  good  associates,  kind 
instructors,  and  everything  moved  along  pleasantly  as  far 
as  study  was  concerned.  But  what  a  time  I  had  in  being 
shut  up  in  a  student's  room  poring  over  Greek  roots  and 
Latin  endings!  Then  I  was  so  homesick!  I  could  think 
of  nothing  but  Rockford,  and  the  associations  I  had  left. 
However,  I  received  many  letters  and  copies  of  the  city 
papers,  which  were  read  and  re-read.  My  excellent  pastor, 
Rev.  J.  TL  Vincent,  now  editor  of  the  Sunday-school 
Advocate^  wrote  me  some  cheering  and  encouraging  letters. 
These  were  treasured  in  my  mind. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  165 

While  here  many  incidents  occurred  which  1  must  pass. 
One  thing  seemed  very  strange,  and  that  was  the  mourn- 
ful, subdued  sounding  of  the  waves  against  the  strand 
each  morning  when  first  waking  from  sleep  when  all  was 
quiet.  It  was  a  long  time  before  I  became  accustomed  to 
it.  My  room  was  in  the  third  story,  and  overlooked  tlie 
lake. 

On  as  beautiful  an  April  morning  as  ever  dawned  on 
Evanston — after  a  severe  storm — a  cry  of  "  A  wreck!  a 
wreck  I  I  see  men  afloat!  Hasten  to  tlie  rescue!"  raner 
through  the  Institute.  Books  were  abandoned,  rooms  were 
emptied,  and  the  students  gathered  on  the  shore  to  see  the 
wreck  driven  before  the  waves  toward  the  shore.  But  the 
wreck  grounded  some  ten  or  fifteen  rods  from  the  shore. 
The  weather  was  clear  and  crisp,  the  water  cold  as  ice,  and 
the  waves  were  breaking  against  the  sides  of  the  vessel  and 
threatening  destruction  to  tlie  four  survivors.  But  help 
was  of  no  avail.  The  whole  village  had  learned  the  news 
and  were  assembling.  But  there  was  no  one  brave  enough 
to  stem  the  waves  and  the  cold.  The  men  on  the  wreck 
were  perishing.  They  appealed  to  the  people  on  the  shore 
for  help.  One  had  just  expired.  They  held  his  frozen 
and  lifeless  body  up  to  the  full  view  of  the  hundreds  on 
shore.  The  appeal  was  enough  to  sicken  the  stoutest  heart. 
At  length  a  student  from  the  senior  class  in  the  Institute, 
Mr.  Hartzell,  now  editor  of  the  Southwestern  Christian 
Advocate,  being  muscular  and  an  excellent  swimmer, 
plunged  into  the  angry  waves,  and,  though  nearly  losing 
his  own  life,  rescued  the  perishing  from  the  wreck.  It 
was  a  noble,  a  brave,  a  daring  deed,  and  cheer  upon  cheer 
followed  him  in  his  humane  efforts.  As  a  suitable  testi- 
monial for  his  bravery,  the  students  and  people  of  Evan- 
ston  raised  a  purse  of  ninety-two  dollars,  and  presented 
him  with  an  entire  set  of  the  American  E nclyclopazdia. 

I  had  advanced  far  enough  in  English  brandies  to  pass 


166  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

examination  for  the  Fresliinan  class  in  the  University. 
But  T  liad  never  studied  the  hincjuasres.  Hence  there  were 
two  full  years  of  hard  study  before  me  before  I  could  enter 
upon  the  University  course.  But  I  was  full  of  hope,  and 
study  was  ray  natural  element.  I  could  study  14  and  16 
hours  out  of  the  24,  and  then  regret  to  lose  time  in  sleep. 

Poverty — bless  the  Lord  for  his  expressions  of  sympathy 
for  this  class  of  humanity  while  in  his  incarnation — was 
ever  casting  anxious  thoughts  in  my  mind.  It  is  no  dis- 
grace to  be  po<^)r,  but  it  is  wonderfully  inconvenient  some- 
times, and  I  found  it  so  while  here. 

The  school  year  was  now  drawing  to  a  close.  The  read- 
er will  understand  that  I  came  to  Evanston  at  the  opening 
of  the  third  or  last  term  of  the  school;  but  there  was  an- 
other item  I  would  have  to  meet,  and  which  perplexed  me, 
viz.:  mv  board  bill;  for  it  will  be  remembered  I  had  no 
means.  How  should  I  meet  it?  What  could  I  do?  This 
I  resolved  to  do:  As  there  were  no  recitations  on  Satur- 
days, I  conceived  the  plan  of  going  to  Chicago  and  work- 
ing at  my  trade.  Having  obtained  letters  of  introduction 
to  some  of  the  offices,  I  went  down  to  the  city,  and  after 
several  applications,  obtained  work  in  the  Chn'sfian  Tiines 
office,  now  TJte  Standard.  I  continued  working  thus  on 
Saturdays  until  the  close  of  the  University  school  year  in 
June.  But  living  so  far  from  my  work,  I  had  to  travel  by 
rail  to  reach  it,  and  as  the  train  did  not  })ass  through 
Evanston  until  between  8  and  9  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
it  would  be  quite  late  before  arriving  in  the  city.  As  a 
result,  in  order  to  pay  my  railroad  fare  and  to  meet  my 
other  expenses,  I  had  to  work  until  the  night  train  left  the 
city,  fifteen  minutes  before  twelve  at  night.  Thus  I  worked 
from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  fifteen  minutes  to 
twelve  at  night.  During  these  working  hours  I  made 
from  four  to  five  dollars,  and  thus  met  my  college  expenses. 

An  incident  and  I  pass.     While  working  one  evening.  I 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  167 

was  unusually  busy,  when  the  court-house  bell  admonished 
me  that  I  must  hasten  to  the  depot  in  time  for  the  train.  But 
I  thought  I  could  make  the  time,  and  kept  at  my  work  a 
little  longer.  Turning  down  the  gaslight,  I  hastened  to 
the  sidewalk,  and  ran  most  of  the  way  to  make  up  for  lost 
time,  but  arrived  just  in  time  to  be  a  little  too  late.  I 
could  hear  the  ringing  of  the  bell  of  the  out-going  train, 
and  thought  perhaps  I  could  overtake  it — the  trains  in  the 
city  usually  run  slow — so  I  doubled  my  speed,  and  after 
the  train  I  hastened.  I  ran  fur  a  mile  or  over,  and  almost 
overtook  it,  when  its  speed  became  too  great  for  me,  and  I 
sank  down  completely  out  of  breath.  Well,  I  was  left. 
What  next?  Put  up  at  a  hotel,  and  thus  spend  the 
greater  part  of  my  hard  earnings?  ^N'o;  that  I  could  not 
consent  to  do.  Where  could  I  0:0?  The  thouo^ht  flashed 
into  my  mind  to  return  to  the  office,  and  see  how  I  could 
pass  the  remainder  of  the  night  there.  Upon  reaching  it 
to  my  surprise  I  found  some  bundles  of  paper.  I  took 
them  down,  and  though  but  little  softer  than  the  floor,  I 
was  thankful  for  even  such  a  bed.  As  Jacob,  when  he 
pillowed  his  head  upon  the  stones,  had  refreshing  sleep,  so 
I  sweetly  rested.  I  was  driven  to  this  extremity  several 
times.  Of  course  I  always  had  to  foot  the  twelve  miles 
from  Chicago  to  Evanston  in  time  to  have  my  lesson  pre- 
pared for  the  first  class  on  Monday  morning. 

However,  experience  taught  me  that  this  was  too  much 
for  poor  human  nature;  for  after  studying  hard  all  the 
week  and  working  Saturdays  on  blind,  puzzling  manu- 
scripts— whicli  were  often  more  trying  than  the  Greek 
verb — until  midnight,  I  would  be  very  much  exhausted, 
and  sufiered  from  violent  headaches.  And  what  alarmed 
me  most  was,  Saturday  nights,  after  retiring  I  would  be 
troubled  with  fearful  dreams.  I  would  dream  that  my 
whole  day's  work,  in  printer's  language,  "  pied;"  that  is, 
all  the  type  I  had  set  I  thought  suddenly  fell  down.     These 


168  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

dreams,  which  I  couhl  not  shake  off,  so  worried  me  that 
111}-  rest  was  much  broken.  Feelin«^  that  mv  healtli  would 
be  ruined  if  I  continued  over-taxin«^  nature  in  this  way, 
I  came  to  the  conchision  tliat  either  I  must  abandon  ray 
efforts  in  trying  to  get  an  education,  or  try  some  other 
metliod  which  would  be  less  taxing  to  nature.  But  how 
could  I  think  of  abandoning  my  heart's  fondest  desire  and 
the  only  ambition  of  my  life! 

As  the  school  vear  was  drawino:  to  a  close,  I  thouirht  of 
another  expediency,  viz. :  to  write  to  editors  of  newspapers 
in  places  where  institutions  of  learning  were  located.  Ac- 
cordingly I  wrote  to  eight  or  ten  editors;  but  receiving 
no  responses,  at  the  close  of  the  school  I  set  out  in  person, 
for  where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way;  and  if  there  is  not 
God  will  make  a  way.  Bidding  farewell  to  my  classmates, 
to  the  blooming  prairies — the  scene  of  sunshine  and  shad- 
ow— I  set  off  for  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan,  as  the  first  place 
to  make  application  for  work. 

It  was  a  hot  day  in  the  last  part  of  June,  and  it  was  a 
dusty,  fatiguing  ride.  The  passengers,  kept  good  spirits. 
In  front  of  me  sat  two  young  men.  As  the  cars  stopped 
at  Jackson,  Mich.,  one  of  them  said  to  the  other,  "  Let's 
take  a  drink.''  And  so  the  boys  did,  and  re-entered  the 
cars  with  their  language  and  persons  marked  with  the  bar- 
room color. 

Take  a  drink!  The  young  men  were  well-dressed  fools. 
Years  hence  a  thousand  woes  will  bloom  in  the  footprints 
now  made  in  their  life.  A  false  light  gilds  the  deadly 
miasma  which  dogs  their  footsteps.  They  see  not  the 
smoking  altar  towards  which  they  are  tending.  A  host  of 
shadowy  phantoms  of  vice  and  crime  are  flitting  on  before. 
Red-handed  murder  laughs  at  their  folly,  and  death  is  in 
waiting  at  the  freshly-opened  grave.  There  are  tears  to  be 
shed  by  those  who  this  hour  dream  not  of  the  sorrow  which 
these  false  steps  shall  bring  upon  them. 


PERSONAL    liECOLLECTIONS.  169 

Take  a  drink!  All  the  uncounted  hosts  of  drunkards 
whose  graves  in  every  land  mark  the  pathway  of  intem- 
perance, took  a  drink.  Three  out  of  four  of  the  murderers 
of  the  past  year  took  a  drink.  Their  steps  were  toward 
the  dram-shops,  and  then  from  the  scaffold  out  upon  tlie 
fearful  waste  beyond.  The  palsied  wretches  who  totter  in 
our  streets  all  took  drinks.  Families  are  beggared  by 
single  drinks.     Hell  is  peopled  with  them. 

I  involuntarily  shudder  when  I  see  young  men  crowd- 
ing the  deeply  beaten  paths  to  the  dram-shop.  They  are 
all  confident  of  their  own  strength.  With  the  glass  in 
hand  where  coils  the  deadly  adder,  they  ha!  ha!  about  the 
fools  that  drink  themselves  to  death;  They  boldly  leap 
into  the  tide  where  strong  arms  have  failed  to  beat  back 
the  sullen  flow.  They  dance  and  shout  in  the  midst  of 
the  grinning  and  ghastly  dead,  and  riot  upon  the  reeking 
fumes  of  the  grave's  foul  breath.  They  boast  of  their 
strength.  And  yet  they  are  but  the  reed  in  the  storm. 
They  wither  like  grass  under  the  sirocco  breath  of  the 
plague  they  nourish.  A  time,  and  they  are  friendless, 
homeless,  and  degraded.  Another  day,  and  the  story  of 
their  lives  is  told  by  a  rude,  stoneless  grave  in  potter's 
field. 

Don't  take  a  drink!  Shun  the  dead  Sea  Fruits  which 
bloom  upon  the  shore  where  millions  have  died.  The 
baubles  which  float  along  the  breakers'  brim  hide  the  ad- 
der's fang.  The  history  of  ages  have  offered  themselves, 
body  and  soul,  to  the  demon  of  the  cup.  The  bondage  of 
iron  galls  but  the  limbs.  That  of  the  dram  fetters  the 
soul. . 

Upon  arriving  at  Ann  Arbor,  I  sought  and  obtained 
employment  in  the  Argus  office.  However,  this  was  only 
transient,  as  they  could  not  give  me  a  permanent  situation. 

While  here  I  had  the  pleasure  of  visiting  the  museum, 
the  library,  and  other  departments  of  the  State  University. 


170  AUTOBIOGRAniY. 

I  spent  some  six  weeks  in  this  beautiful  city,  and  gladly 
would  I  have  accepted  work  if  I  could  only  have  obtained 
it.  From  here  I  purposed  going  to  Delaware,  Ohio,  and 
thence,  if  I  failed,  to  Meadsville,  Pa.,  and  so  on  until  I 
found  a  situation. 

Having  stayed  as  long  as  I  could  obtain  work,  I  was  on 
the  point  of  starting  for  Delaware,  Ohio,  when,  to  my  great 
surprise,  I  received  a  letter  from  Middletown,  Conn.,  which 
was  addressed  to  me  at  Evanston,  and  forwarded  by  one  of 
the  students  to  Ann  Arbor,  stating  that  my  proposition 
was  accepted.  As  soon  as  I  had  noted  its  contents,  which 
was  on  Saturday  evening  previous  to  my  departure,  I  could 
hardly  contain  myself  for  joy,  and  accordingly  prepared  to 
at  once  set  out  for  Middletown,  Conn.  So  overjoyed  was 
I  that  I  could  sleep  but  little  either  Saturday  or  Sunday 
nights. 

Monday  morning,  at  the  early  hour  of  3  o'clock,  I  set 
out  for  the  depot.  About  40  minutes  later  I  heard  the 
rumbling  of  the  approaching  train  among  the  hills  and 
vales,  and  a  few  minutes  later  I  was  on  my  way.  Passing 
Ypsilanti,  where  the  State  formal  School  is  located,  we 
arrived  in  Detroit  while  it  was  yet  early.  This  time  I 
passed  through  Canada  via  Sarnia.  Tlie  face  of  the  coun- 
try as  seen  from  the  cars  from  the  Detroit  Junction  to 
Stratford  (perhaps  Stan^rd),  was  in  great  contrast  with 
the  undulations  of  the  western  prairies;  for  most  of  the 
distance  extensive  forests  and  stumpy  fields,  with  here  and 
there  a  farmhouse,  only  relieved  the  eye. 

At  the  above-named  place — being  the  junction  or  cross- 
ing of  some  road  where  we  changed  cars  for  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 
— the  country  looked  somewhat  more  inviting.  Paris  had 
the  appearance  of  a  beautiful  town.  The  vicinity  was  also 
picturesque.  After  leaWng  this  place  we  had  a  fair  view 
of  grain  fields  filled  with  the  "  Canada  thistle,'-  known 
the  country  through  as  the  pest  of  the  farmer.     Indeed  it 


PERSONAI.    RECOLLECTIONS.  171 

must  be  discouraging  to  have  these  pests  year  after  year 
absorb  the  nutrition  and  strength  of  the  soil  to  the  detri- 
ment of  the  crops. 

I  also  experienced  while  passing  along  this  road,  that  it 
took  considerable  United  States  money  to  purchase  a  little. 
At  that  time,  if  memory  serves  me  right,  only  forty  cents 
in  Canada  money  could  be  obtained  for  one  dollar  of  ours. 
About  8  o'clock  we  reached  Buffalo,  and  thus  ended  my 
travels  on  British  soil. 

From  Buffalo  to  Albany  I  could  not  lielp  but  note 
the  places  and  scenes  of  suffering  I  had  passed  through 
when  I  footed  the  distance  years  before.  Though  I  was 
poor  now,  yet  my  condition  was  infinitely  better,  and 
something  tangible  was  before  me.  Then,  I  was  some  four 
weeks  in  making  the  distance  from  Buffalo;  now,  less  than 
twelve  hours. 

At  Albany  I  left  the  railroad,  as  I  purposed  passing  over- 
land by  way  of  Stephentown,  and  striking  the  railroad 
at  Pittsfield,  Mass.  I  could  not  pass  within  sixteen  miles 
of  the  scenes  of  other  days,  the  home  of  my  father  and 
the  graves  of  my  mother  and  brothers,  without  visiting 
them. 

This  was  about  the  10th  of  July,  1864.  And,  as  near  as 
I  could  count  the  years,  just  ten  of  them  had  passed  away 
since  my  flight  from  home.  For  ten  years  had  I  suffered 
and  wandered  from  place  to  place  seeking  to  better  my 
condition.  But  how  changed  all  things  were!  The  boys 
I  knew  then  were  now  on  bloody  fields  of  battle,  and  some 
of  them,  say  it  softly,  were  sleeping  in  Southern  graves, 
some  where  the  Potomac's  silver  wavelets  break  on  the 
shore,  others  by  Richmond's  sunny  hills,  still  others,  in 
Libby  and  Andersonville  prisons,  while  unceasing  prayers 
from  Northern  homes  of  desolation,  wrung  from  mothers' 
aching  hearts,  went  up  day  and  night  for  the  soldier  boys, 
and  for  the  country's  safety.     O  sad  hours!     O  distracted 


172  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

country!  O  disconsolate  mothers !  Heaven  pity!  Almost 
every  home  in  Steplientown  had  consecrated  a  fatlier,  a 
brother,  or  a  son  npon  tlie  nation's  altar. 

I  made  the  home  of  Mrs.  L.  H.  Wait  my  first  stopping- 
place.  But,  my  playmates  I  where  were  they^  Wan-en 
was  in  the  army;  Addie  was  living  a  hundred  miles  away. 
My  Sabbath-school  companions  were  grown  up  to  man- 
hood and  womanhood,  and  another  generation  of  children 
was  filling  the  school.  Many  of  the  older  people  had  died. 
Some  had  moved  away.  In  short,  great  changes  had  taken 
place,  and  it  made  me  almost  homesick  to  depart — for  it 
was  nothing  to  what  I  had  anticipated. 

Ten  years  ago!  What  changes!  I  was  a  mere  lad  then, 
and  who  can  tell  the  glory  and  blessedness  of  boyhood. 
My  home  then  was  in  an  obscure  valley.  Lofty  hills  rise 
on  each  side  and  throw  long  shadows  on  each  other  alter- 
nately as  the  day  dawns  and  ends.  The  old  log  cabin  has 
fallen  into  decay;  tall  weeds  have  taken  possession  of  the 
flower-beds;  the  meadow  has  become  a  field  of  briers,  and 
the  mountain  paths  so  often  trod  by  me  are  now  obliterated. 
All  things  are  changed.  This  dear  spot  had  once  the  glad- 
dest music  of  earth  to  me;  .no  birds  ever  sang  so  sweetly 
as  those  to  which  I  then  listened;  no  sun  ever  shone  so 
lovely  as  the  one  which  lifted  his  brow  over  the  grand  old 
hill.  But  the  years  give  not  up  their  treasures.  'Tis 
well:  keep  them  O  ye  loving  years.  The  dream  is  mine; 
the  flowers  were  mine  then;  the  fruit  is  mine  now.  An- 
gels of  the  household,  how  they  follow  us,  smiles  of  glad- 
ness, tears  of  afiection,  songs  of  the  heart;  they  live  with 
us  still. 

I  went  to  church  in  the  adjacent  village.  All  is  change; 
however,  the  dear  old  church  is  much  the  same,  but  they 
who  worship  there,  how  diflerent!  A  few  only  seem  famil- 
iar.    Old  songs,  but  new  voices.     Many  sing  the  new  song 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  173 

now  on  the  mountain  of  beauty,  in  the  land  of  the  morn- 


ing. 


We  are  journeying  to  other  years.  Shall  they  be  years 
of  sunshine?  Shall  they  be  years  of  peace?  We  go  to  the 
coming  years;  shall  they  be  the  long,  long  years  of  autumn 
glory  following  a  life  of  faith  and  goodness  on  earth? 

Shall  we  all  be  home  again  in  our  Fatherland?  Short 
years  of  earth,  long  years  of  heavenly  joy.  Short  years 
of  seed  sowing,  of  tears,  of  crosses,  of  duty  and  love,  shall 
they  lead  us  to  the  eternal  and  blessed  years,  where  Christ 
is  the  shepherd,  and  leadeth  his  own  forever? 

One  of  the  last  things  received  at  Ann  Arbor  was  a  long 
letter  from  my  dear  friend  beneath  whose  roof  I  was  now 
stopping.  She  little  thought  when  she  wrote  that  letter, 
of  seeing  me  so  soon,  and  on  the  first  evening  of  my  arri- 
val I  sat  down  and  recounted  the  events  of  my  life  to  the 
dear,  good  lady,  Mrs.  Wait,  who  all  these  years  had  be- 
friended me  and  encouraged  me  to  manly  deeds.  She  it 
was  who  had  so  faithfully  corresponded  with  me,  overlooked 
all  my  deficiencies,  and  expressed  unbounded  confidence 
in  me,  and  had  so  often  encouraged  me  to  struggle  on,  as- 
suring me  that  I  would  yet  be  a  man — a  self-made  man. 
Precious  mother  in  Israel,  God  bless  you  in  the  declining 
years  of  life,  and  may  the  golden  shores  of  eternity  bring 
to  your  brow  a  crown  of  glory!  Pen  fails  me  to  write 
down  the  lasting  gratitude  that  springs  up  in  my  poor 
heart  toward  this  noble  woman.  She  has  been  a  real  mother 
to  me.  And,  under  God,  I  owe  much,  if  I  possess  any 
moral  worth,  to  this  servant  of  God. 

On  that  evening  I  learned  the  story  of  my  poor  mother's 
death,  and  the  unhappy  circumstances  attending  it.  Charity 
towards  my  father,  and  the  sacred  memory  of  my  angel 
mother,  whose  good  hand  never  had  anything  but  blessing 
for  her  eldest-born,  forbid  me  to  dwell  upon   this  subject. 


174  .  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

The  reflective  reader  will  not  be  lost  for  tlie  reason  why  it 
is  best  for  me  not  to  say  more. 

The  following  day  I  visited  my  father.  He  was  greatly 
surprised  to  see  me.  But  my  visit  was  a  sad  one — it  was 
one  of  tears.  As  solemn  as  was  the  occasion  to  me,  when 
I  could  scarcely  keep  back  the  tears  of  an  acliing  heart, 
he  had  the  effrontery  to  offer  me  a  glass  of  beer.  With 
chills  of  horror  and  loathing,  followed  by  the  hot  blood 
rushing  through  my  veins  and  mounting  into  my  face,  I 
stood  until  the  goblet  was  filled,  and  then  took  it  and  dashed 
it  into  a  hundred  pieces  upon  the  door-stone,  exclaiming 
as  I  did  so,  "  Oh,  demon  of  hell,  thou  art  the  cause  of  all 
this  sorrow,  and  the  ruin  of  this  family!"  My  father 
looked  astonished  at  the  daring  deed,  and  said  something 
in  an  undertone  to  himself  about  the  w^aste  of  the  beer. 
In  the  home  I  found  a  stepmother,  my  sister  Mary  and 
brother  Jacob.  This  constituted  the  family.  Jacob  was 
an  own  brother,  born  since  I  had  left  home,  and  hence  this 
was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him,  though  eight  or  nine 
years  old.  Both  of  the  children  were  abused  out  of  mea- 
sure by  the  cruelty  of  the  stepmother,  though  I  did  not 
learn  the  full  extent  of  the  abuse  at  this  time.  I  w^ill  recur 
to  this  farther  along  in  this  sketch. 

The  reader  will  remember  that  when  I  received  the  in- 
telligence of  my  mother's  death,  while  living  with  Mr. 
"Wm.  Swardwood,  Belvidere,  Ills.,  it  contained  the  news  of 
the  death  of  two  of  my  brothers. 

That  the  reader  may  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  entire  family 
I  will  here  recapitulate:  namely,  the  writer,  on  his  way  to 
Middletown,  Conn.;  Peter,  a  soldier  in  the  army,  wounded 
at  Murpliriesboro,Teiin.;  Mary,  at  home;  Joseph,  the  oldest 
of  the  two  above  spoken  of,  died  of  scarlet  fever ;  Leopold, 
living  at  the  steam  saw-mill,  and  whom  I  have  never  seen; 
Jacob,  at  home,  and  the  baby  brother  never  seen  by  me, 
died  of  scarlet  fever.     This   constitutes  the  whole  family. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  175 

Two  I  have  never  seen,  one  having  died  while  away  from 
home,  and  the  other  I  have  lost  traces  of. 

Suffer  me  to  add  here,  that  I  have  learned  since  publish- 
ing this  sketch  in  the  Censer,  that  both  Joseph  and  my 
baby  brother  (whose  name  I  have  never  learned),  had  the 
best  of  treatment  and  care  while  sick  at  the  hands  of  those 
noble-hearted  women  of  West  Stephentown.  It  made  the 
tears  come  to  my  eyes  as  I  learned  that  they  were  so  good 
and  patient.  The  motherless  babe  never  murmured  as  it 
lay  on  its  bed  of  suffering.  Joseph,  who  must  have  been 
a  lad  of  ten  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was  given  away  just 
as  I  had  been,  but  was  more  fortunate  in  that  he  fell  into 
the  hands  of  a  Christian  family.  He  was  loved  by  them, 
and  was  gentle  and  obedient.  But  the  sweet  angel  of  death 
garnered  the  budding  flowers  for  a  fairer  clime. 

To  these  good  people,  should  I  never  be  aljle  to  see  them 
in  tlie  flesh,  I  would  extend  my  lasting  and  heartfelt 
gratitude.  God  bless  them  for  showing  kindness  and 
mercy  to  two  of  a  helpless  and  scattered  family  of  unfor- 
tunate children.  Yes,  with  tears  streaming  from  my  eyes 
as  I  pen  these  lines,  I  know  there  are  wayside  angels 
scattered  up  and  down  this  earth  of  ours,  who  have  large 
hearts.  I  have  found  some  in  the  way.  May  heaven  re- 
ward them  for  the  kindly  words  spoken  to  this  wounded, 
aching  heart,  filled  with  unutterable  sorrow. 

The  next  morning,  in  company  with  Father,  Mary  and 
Jacob,  I  visited  the  graves  of  my  mother  and  two  brothers, 
Joseph,  and  the  youngest-born,  whose  name  I  have  not 
learned.  They  are  in  a  neglected  and  seldom-used  burial- 
place,  on  the  southeastern  slope  of  a  hill  almost  three 
miles  from  the  village  of  Alps.  The  whole  is  enclosed  by 
a  stone  wall  which  is  broken  down  in  many  places.  It 
made  my  heart  ache  to  see  the  generally- neglected  and  un- 
cared-for condition  of  the  burial  place.  We  had  to  enter 
by  a  pair  of  bars.     Scratching  our  hands  several  times  with 


176  ATJTOBIOGRAPHT 

briers,  we  at  last  arrived  at  a  grass-coverea  mound  which 
father  pointed  out  as  the  grave  of  mother,  and  by  the  side 
of  this  were  two  smaller  mounds,  which  were  the  graves 
of  my  brothers.  Mary,  Jacob,  and  myself  kneeled  down 
by  the  graves  and  wept.  "  Oh,  loved  one,  precious  mother, 
grief-stricken,  heart-broken  mother!  Are  you  conscious 
of  our  presence?  Do  you  hear  the  falling  of  our  tears 
upon  the  sod?  Oh  come  back  to  us,  if  but  for  a  moment! 
Speak  to  us  as  of  yore!  Alas!  alas!  the  zephyrs  of  the 
quiet  summer  hour  bear  our  moanings  and  our  sighings 
away  to  the  echoless  shore,  and  no  voice  returns  to  us! 
Sleep  on,  blessed,  sainted,  angelic  one!  earth  has  no  sor- 
row that  Heaven  cannot  cure!  And  these,  thy  latest- born, 
shall  never  battle  in  the  bitter,  ah,  thrice  bitter  struggle  of 
life!"  I  bowed  my  head  upon  the  grave,  and  would  have 
given  the  dearest  object  of  my  life  could  I  have  looked 
upon  the  face,  and  received  a  token  from  the  peaceful  sleep- 
er.    But,  alas!  alas!  it  was  too  late  now. 

It  was  in  my  heart,  if  I  could  do  no  more,  to  plant  a 
few  flowers  over  the  sainted  spot,  but  even  these  I  could 
not  obtain,  so  I  had  to  leave  the  place  as  I  found  it. 

Fourteen  years  later,  in  1870,  I  was  again  permitted  to 
visit  the  place,  and  to  erect  headstones  over  the  graves  ot 
mother  and  brothers,  and  to  secure  a  substantial  fence 
around  the  whole  burial  plot.  Joseph,  however,  upon 
careful  investigation,  was  not  found  buried  on  the  moun- 
tain, but  in  North  Nassau. 

I  have  always  cherished  the  memory  of  my  angel  mother, 
and  have  grieved  much  over  the  thought  that  added  to  all 
her  sufferings  in  the  last  hours  of  her  life,  she  would  re- 
peatedly call  for  her  children,  and  they  were  not.  At  the 
last  she  exclaimed,  *'  I  could  die  happy  if  I  could  o^ily  see 
my  children  once  more;"  and  then  she  would  moan  in  the 
most  pitiable  tones,  as  if  in  great  agony.  It  was  the  mem- 
ory of  these  things  that  made  the  visit  at  her  grave  such 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  177 

a  sad  one.     Alas!  the  sorrows  of  a  drunkard's  home,  who 
can  tell  them? 

But  mine  is  the  Christian's  consolation.  In  this  world 
we  may  expect  sorrow.  "We  must  sufter  as  well  as  do  the 
will  of  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  And  this  we  can- 
not do  without  meek,  submissive  patience.  The  cross  lirst, 
and  then  the  crown.  Sowing  in  tears  it  may  be,  yet,  doubt- 
less, if  we  faint  not,  we  shall  return  bearing  our  precious 
sheaves,  with  the  smile  of  heaven  upon  our  faces.  The 
storm  may  rage  over  mountain  and  plain,  and  terror  fill 
our  fainting  hearts,  but  behind  the  tempest  is  the  radiant 
Sim  whose  genial  rays  picture  through  the  sparkling  tears 
of  nature  the  beautiful  bow  of  peace  in  the  very  cloud  we 
so  much  dreaded.  We  may  cry  out  when  the  deep  foun- 
tains of  our  nature  are  broken  up:  "  Oh,  why  do  afflictions 
cover  me  over  as  the  waters  cover  the  deep?"  Be  patient, 
these  sorrows  are  only  stepping  stones  to  the  higher  life. 
Over  the  turbid  waves  of  life's  tempestuous  sea  come  angei 
voices,  bidding  us  be  calm,  for  Jesus  drank  of  the  cup 
pressed  to  our  lips.  Behold,  what  sorrows  did  he  undergo, 
and  with  what  patience  did  he  sufter  them!  Patient  when 
Judas  unworthily  betrayed  him  with  a  kiss;  patient  when 
Caiaphas  despitefully  used  him ;  patient  when  hurried  from 
one  place  to  another;  patient  when  Herod  with  his  men  of 
war  set  him  at  naught;  patient  when  Pilate  so  unrighteously 
condemned  him ;  patient  when  scourged  and  crowned  w^ith 
thorns;  patient  when  his  cross  was  laid  upon  him,  and 
when  he  was  reviled,  reproached,  scofted  at,  and  every  way 
insulted.  Lord  Jesus,  grant  us  patience,  after  this  example, 
to  bear  thy  holy  will  in  all  things.  Thy  patience,  thy 
gentleness,  thy  love,  shall  stop  these  murmuring  lips.  Oh, 
lead  us  through  sorrow's  vail  up  to  the  golden  city  of  our 
God. 

I  remained  in  the  neighborhood  about  a  week.     I  gather- 
ed up  all  the  items  relative  to  my  mother's  death  I  could, 
12 


178  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and  the  good  people  told  me  many  sad  things,  all  of  which 
it  does  not  become  me  to  relate  here.  God  pity  the  wife 
and  family  of  the  drunkard! 

From  Stephen  town,  I  went  via  ]N^ew  Lebanon  Springs 
to  Pittslield,  Mass.  Coming  from  the  prairies,  the  reader 
may  well  think  I  appreciated  and,  as  much  as  the  burden 
of  my  heart  permitted  me,  enjoyed  the  ever-changing 
scenefy  along  that  mountain  road. 

It  was  a  real  luxury  to  once  more  breathe  the  pure 
mountain  air,  and  to  look  upon  those  giant  sentinels  of 
the  ages  rearing  their  rugged  brows  towards  the  heavens. 
And  then  it  was  the  most  lovely  time  of  year  to  travel 
among  the  varied  sceneries  of  New  England.  Would  that 
I  had  space  to  describe  the  impressions  made  upon  my 
mind  as  I  passed  the  villages,  hamlets,  and  stately  farm- 
houses, with  their  orchards,  their  flower-gardens,  beautiful 
lawns;  how  enchanting  to  view  the  undulations  of  the 
country  between  the  mountains  with  their  foliaged  forests, 
to  look  upon  the  distant  lakelets  shimmering  in  the  noon- 
tide sun  of  the  quiet  summer  hour,  to  catch  gleams  of 
the  sparkling  rills,  rolling  their  cooling  streams  over  pebbly 
beds;  to  gaze  upon  waving  fields,  or  low-lying  meadows, 
filling  the  air  with  the  fragrance  of  the  new-mown  grass. 
Then  all  these  objects  were  relieved  by  deep  ravines  and 
lofty  hills.  It  was  a  district  of  country  thus  diversified  I 
was  now  traveling  in  company  with  a  friend. 

Passing  Stephentown  at  a  time  in  the  morning  when  the 
milkmaids  were  out,  when  the  flowers  were  breathing  their 
sweetness  on  the  air,  when  the  birds  from  rose-bush  and 
shrub  and  distant  grove  were  carroling  forth  their  best 
songs,  when  the  peasantry  were  coming  from  their  cottages 
to  enter  the  sunny  fields  of  labor.  Truly  these  objects 
diverted  my  mind,  and  I  was  glad  in  my  heart  that  I  was 
permitted  to  traverse  these  places  remembered  of  long 
an'O.     There  was  not  a  street  nor  house  but  what  I  had 


PERSOXAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  179 

visited  time  and  again  in  the  person  of  the  poor,  despised 
and  oft-rejected  beggar-bov.  But  times  change,  and  we 
change  with  them.  I  was  now  a  youth,  and  on  my  way  to 
college.  Could  it  be  possible!  or  was  it  only  a  dream? 
Yes,  it  was  a  veritable  fact. 

Leaving  the  village  of  Hancock  about  two  miles  to  our 
left,  we  presently  came  to  the  somewhat  noted  ^ew  Leba- 
non Springs.  The  reader  will  remember  that  here  is  loca- 
ted perhaps  the  largest  community  of  Shakers  in  this 
country.  While  they  are  a  quaint  people,  with  their  long 
coats,  their  broad-brimmed  hats,  their  flowing  locks;  yet 
they  are  as  honest  as  the  day  is  long.  Then  their  village, 
their  extensive  farm,  their  vast  seed-  beds,  and  thrifty-look- 
ing horses  and  cattle,  are  models  for  any  farmer.  But  I 
guess  I  would  not  make  a  very  good  Shaker,  from  the  fact 
that  I  love  liberty  too  well.  Yet  these  Xew  Lebanon 
Shakers  have  one  of  the  most  sunny  spots  in  eastern  New 
York. 

From  here  we  ascended  a  lofty  hill  for  about  four  miles, 
from  the  summit  of  which  we  beheld  Pittsfield,  Mass., 
nestling  in  a  plain  as  lovely  as  must  have  been  Sliinar  of 
old.  To  the  north,  surrounded  on  two  sides  by  groves,  we 
espied  a  lake  rippling  in  the  morning  breeze. 

One  that  is  as  charmed  with  God's  beautiful  world  as  I 
am,  could  drink  in  deeper  enjoyments  than  my  pen  could 
describe.  Our  blessed  Lord  loved  to  retire  to  the  moun- 
tain top,  and  it  was  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  he  said 
to  his  disciples,  "  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world."  Thus  he 
seized  upon  a  figure  of  speech  at  once  natural  and  tangible. 
But  then  his  words  are  among  the  marvels  of  the  incarna- 
tion, especially  when  contrasted  with  the  cumbrous  and 
frivolous  diction  of  the  religious  teachers  of  his  day  and 
race.  All  the  imagery  which  he  employs  reveals  not  only 
such  purity  and  divinity  of  thought  as  befit  the  Lord  of 
glory,  but  attests  such  an  indwelling  in  the  material  world 


ISO  AUTMliloGRAPlIV. 

as  we  should  expect  from  tlie  Lord  of  nature.  His  illus- 
trations are  taken  from  the  objects  and  events  of  every-day 
life;  the  pendant  lily,  the  broken  bulrush,  the  smoking  flax, 
the  piece  of  money,  the  pearl  of  great  price,  the  lost  sheep,  the 
sower  and  the  seed*,  the  leaven,  the  salt,  the  fish  and  the  net, 
the  red  glare  of  the  approaching  tempest,  the  sunrise  and  the 
sunset,  the  lightning  and  the  wind,  the  neighbor  aroused  at 
dead  of  night,  the  boys  piping  in  the  market-place,  the  stew- 
ard and  the  laborer,  the  willful  prodigal  boy,  the  bridegroom 
and  the  bride,  the  wicket  gate,  the  broad  road,  the  stony 
ground,  the  burning  lake.  There  is  nothing  improbable 
in  the  supposition  that  the  objects  and  events  thus  em- 
ployed were  either  present  or  near  while  the  Saviour  spoke; 
so  that  they  were  not  only  the  vehicles  of  truth,  but  the 
means  of  arresting:  attention.  So  that  we  are  at  liberty  to 
believe  that  those  who  first  heard  the  words  of  the  quota- 
tion above,  heard  them  under  circumstances  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Our  Lord  had  passed  the  whole  night  in  prayer 
upon  the  lofty  peak  of  that  saddle-shaped  mountain  which 
rises  by  the  shore  of  the  sea  of  Galilee.  When  the  grey 
of  the  early  morning  was  paling  the  deep  blue  of  the  mid- 
night sky,  he  came  down  from  his  lonely  eminence,  and 
calling  to  him  his  disciples,  appointed  the  twelve  apostles. 
The  tableland  on  which  he  stood  was  high  above  the  level 
of  the  inland  sea,  and  upon  it  was  gathered  a  great  multi- 
tude of  people,  w^liom  he  taught  concerning  his  kingdom, 
having  first  healed  their  sick.  Facing  to  the  east  as 
the  spot  did,  the  time  soon  after  sunrise,  perhaps  even 
while  the  sun  came  forth  from  the  cham\)ers  of  the  east, 
the  scene  and  the  sermon  must  have  been  deeply  impressed 
upon  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  observers.  It  was  the 
month  of  April,  when  the  air  was  vocal  with  the  matin 
song  of  the  birds,  and  all  vegetable  life  was  strong  and 
fresh.  It  was  a  region  famous  for  the  purple  tints  of  the 
mountain-side;  for  its  profusion  and  luxuriance  of  green; 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  18.1 

for  the  brilliant  plumage  of  its  birds;  for  its  masses  of 
growing  grain,  dotted  here  and  tli ere  with  the  rich  scarlet 
and  pink  tints  of  the  native  oleander;  a  region  of  silver 
fountain  and  waterfall  above,  of  tlie  dark  blue  lake  beneath. 
As  the  sunlight,  first  tipping  the  mountain  peak  with  rosy 
radiance,  stole  gradually  down  the  purple  mountain  sides, 
bringing  out  a  new  world  of  beautiful  form  and  rich  color, 
reflecting  itself  in  a  million  drops  of  dew,  and  in  every 
watery  spray;  no  one  that  looked  could  fail  to  have  a  vivid 
conception  of  the  dignity  of  the  disciples  to  whom  the 
Master  said,  "  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world." 

Thus  the  very  mountains  were  used  by  the  Savionr  as 
pulpits,  and  the  rising  sun  as  illustrating  divine  truth.  If 
our  Redeemer  thus  used  every  object  in  nature — from  the 
^'  high  mountain  "  to  the  "  lily  of  the  valley  " — to  illus- 
trate and  enforce  his  sermons,  should  not  we,  for  his  sake, 
associate  them  in  our  life  whenever  we  come  in  contact 
with  them? 

About  nine  o'clock  we  reached  Fittsfield.  Havinp:  about 
two  hours  to  wait  for  the  train,  I  took  a  hasty  ramble 
through  this  beautiful  inland  city.  It  certainly  is  one  of 
the  most  lovely  I  was  ever  in.  Its  streets  are  wide,  and 
shaded  on  either  side  by  large  trees;  the  business  part  was 
thrifty,  and  every  home  seemed  a  mansion  or  a  cottage  of 
peace  and  happiness.  Here  the  widely-known,  and  now 
lamented  Dr.  Todd  spent  a  life  of  untold  usefulness.  His 
church  is  a  model  of  JSTew  England  architecture.  While  I 
was  thus  drinking  in  the  enchantments  of  this  place,  I 
heard  the  approaching  train  that  was  to  further  me  on  my 
journey,  and  I  hastened  to  the  depot. 

After  leaving  this  place,  we  passed  through  the  southern 
spur  of  the  Green  Mountains.  And  for  picturesqueness 
and  novelty  of  scenery  the  student  of  nature  will  seldom 
find  a  more  varied  tract  of  country  traversed  by  rail.  We 
passed  several  villages  and  towns,  but  the  cars  don't  stop 


182  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

long  enough  for  one  to  get  a  good  look,  though  we  were 
constantly  on  the  alert.  At  Springfield,  Mass.,  I  for  the 
first  time  saw  the  Connecticut  River,  about  which  I  had 
read  so  much,  and  the  beautiful  valley  stretching  to  the 
south  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  As  in  admiration  I 
looked  upon  that  enchanting  stream,  and  the  valley  through 
which  it  flowed,  I  could  only  exclaim,  "  Behold,  the  half 
had  not  been  told  me!"  As  I  will  have  occasion  to  refer 
to  Springfield  again,  I  will  hasten  along  in  my  sketch. 

Here  we  changed  cars,  and  the  iron  horse  soon  carried 
us  through  the  valley  along  the  river's  bank  to  Windsor 
Locks,  where  we  re-crossed  the  river,  but  continued  along 
the  bank  of  the  same  to  Hartford,  Conn.  Those  who 
know,  say  that  this  valley,  stretching  from  Springfield  on 
the  north  to  Hartford,  and  perhaps  Middletown  on  the 
south,  is  the  richest  and  most  fruitful  of  all  New  England. 
Fancy  my  surprise  then,  as  I  noticed  the  red,  and,  to  all 
appearance,  parched  soil,  as  viewed  from  the  car- window. 
There  was  such  a  contrast  between  it  and  the  black, 
alluvial  soil  of  the  prairies.  And  it  did  not  seem  possible 
that  such  soil  could  produce  anything.  But  such  are  the 
contrasts  the  diflerent  sections  of  our  own  country  present 
to  the  traveler.  Stopping  at  Windsor  and  Hartford,  I 
arrived  at  Middletown,  and  at  once  sought  out  the  Coii- 
stitution  office  and  reported  myself  Mr.  Xewton  received 
me  kindly,  and  was  ready  to  set  me  to  work.  But  I  was 
now  out  of  money,  and  in  a  strange  place.  The  manners 
of  the  people,  even  their  very  speech,  was  different  from 
that  of  the  West.  I  confess  I  was  homesick.  But  I  kept 
a  stiff  upper  lip.  Mr.  ^N^ewton  suggested  that  I  should 
first  look  myself  up  a  suitable  room.  So  I  went  out  and 
wandered  all  over  the  city,  but  not  one  could  I  find  within 
my  limited  means.  I  could  not  see  my  way.  At  evening 
I  returned  to  the  office  well  discouraged.  It  was  now 
supper  time.     He  invited  me  to  go  and  take  tea  with  him. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  183 

But  I  could  eat  little.  My  mind  was  sorely  depressed. 
They  suggested  one  place  and  another.  But  I  was  a  stranger 
and  could  find  no  one  who  would  trust  me.  But  I  found 
Mrs.  Newton  a  pleasant  lady,  whose  cheerful  face  did  much 
to  drive  away  the  depression  of  my  mind.  And  as  they 
listened  to  my  voice,  and  as  I  related  the  events  through 
which  I  had  passed,  a  better  spirit  prevailed.  They  at 
once  saw  that  I  was  now  helpless,  and  they  did  really  cheer 
me  up.  They  had  plenty  of  rooms — empty  ones  too^in 
the  house,  and  they  gave  me  as  good  a  one  as  they  had. 

This  was  on  Saturday  evening,  Aug.  6.  The  next  day 
was  my  first  Sabbath  in  a  New  England  town.  And  a 
lovely  morning  it  was.  I  arose  quite  early,  and  for  over 
an  hour  I  sat  by  the  open  window  looking  out  upon  flower- 
gardens,  palace  homes,  stone  sidewalks;  and  meditated  on 
the  contrasts  of  my  present  with  my  former  surround- 
ings. 

While  I  thus  sat  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  resting 
from  the  fatigue  of  a  long  journey,  and  as  my  senses  were 
invio^orated  bv  the  flower-scented  air,  I  thoucrkt  of  that 
home  in  heaven,  that  rest  which  remains  for  the  people  of 
God,  of  meeting  the  King  in  his  glorious  apparel,  and  of 
uniting  with  redemption's  hosts  in  singing  the  "new  song," 
for 

In  the  sweet  by-and-by,  *" 

We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore. 

How  cheering  to  the  Christian  heart  is  that  sweet  "song 
of  Zion!"  How  it  thrills  the  soul  with  emotion  unutter- 
able! How  it  lifts  the  bowed  head,  and  brino-s  fresh  in- 
spiration  and  strength  to  the  fainting  spirit!  How  it 
points  the  languid  eye  of  faith  to  brighter  scenes  and  fairer 
realms  and  untold  felicities  "beyond  the  river."  Oh,  how 
its  matchless  melody  brings  into  play  our  noblest  aspira- 
tions, raises  upward  our  highest  hopes,  and  gives  us  new 
vigor  to  labor  on,  and   travel   on,  and  fight  on,  until  our 


184  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

labors  shall  end,  our  journey  shall  be  over,  our  warfare 
shall  be  concluded,  and  we  shall  mingle  onr  voices  in  the 
strains  of  that  still  sweeter  song  of  "Moses  and  the  Lamb." 

Fellow  Christian,  traveling  through  earth's  dreary  soli- 
tudes, how  is  it  with  thee?  Art  thou  toil-worn  and  foot- 
sore, and  are  thy  garments  soiled  with  the  dust  of  travel? 
Has  the  weary  march  over  mountain  and  plain  and  through 
the  dangerous  "enemy's  country,"  weakened  thy  faith  and 
chilled  thy  hope?  And  is  the  confession  daily  extorted 
from  thy  lips  that  thou  art  a  "pilgrim  and  a  stranger  on 
the  earth?"  List,  my  brother,  to  the  great  apostle  as  he 
speaks  of  the  pilgrims  who  have  gone  before  you!  Hear 
him:  "  They  that  say  such  things  declare  plainly  that  they 
seek  a  country.  Will  they  reach  that  country?''  Hear  him 
again:  "Wherefore,  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their 
God,  for  he  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city."  Be  encouraged 
weary  one.  Travel  on  in  the  King's  highway.  The  "sweet 
by  and  by  "  is  coming.  A  few  more  hills  to  climb,  a  few 
more  valleys  to  pass  through,  a  few  more  dangers  to  sur- 
mount, and  then,  oh,  then,  Zion's  towers  and  "heaven- 
built  w^alls  "  shall  be  full  in  view,  and,  crossing  in  triumph 
the  intervening  flood,  thou  shalt  reach  and  enter  the  pil- 
gi-im's  eternal  rest.  Then  let  the  music  of  the  sweet  by 
and  by  ring  out  in  hopeful  cadence  through  the  chambers 
of  your  souls,  until  we  get  out  of  the  "  wilderness,  and 
beyond  the  desert,  and  across  old  Jordan;"  and  then,  in 
higher  notes  and  loftier  strains,  we  will  unite  our  voices 
in  the  sweeter  chorus  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb. 

At  the  hour  of  ten  I  was  startled  by  the  united  peals  of 
half-a-dozen  deep-toned  church  bells.  They  were  rung 
with  such  precision  that  they  struck  together;  then  their 
vibrations  would  float  on  the  air  and  grow  less  and  less 
until  lost  to  the  hearing.  For  a  minute  all  would  be  silent, 
and  then  crash  came  the  united  volume  of  the  far-sounding 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.    .  185 

bells.     I  had  never  heard  the  like  before.     But  then  this 
is  the  way  they  call  the  people  to  church  in  Middletown. 

The  Sabbath  ended,  and  I  entered  upon  my  duties  in  the 
Constitution  office.  I  agreed  to  work  for  ]^ewton  two 
hours  each  day,  and  half  of  Saturdays  for  my  board.  I 
now  felt  that  I  had  been  amply  rewarded  for  all  my  efforts. 
IIoweY,er,  as  there  were  some  six  weeks  before  the  school 
year  opened,  I  worked  all  this  time  in  consideration  of 
board,  in  addition  to  the  time  as  above  stated.  When  the 
time  for  the  opening  of  the  school  arrived,  as  I  was  not 
far  enough  advanced  to  enter  the  University,  I  attended 
the  Connecticut  Institute,  and  applied  myself  more  dili- 
gently, if  possible,  than  ever  before,  in  order  that  I  should 
be  able  to  enter  the  University  in  1865. 

While  the  weather  was  warm  everything  was  as  comfort- 
able as  I  could  desire.  The  autumn  passed  agreeably 
away,  and  the  cold  weather  w^as  approaching,  and  as  I  had 
spent  most  all  of  my  money  in  the  purchase  of  books,  I 
was  quite  in  need  of  some  to  purchase  clothing,  and  I  did 
not  know  where  it  was  coming  from;  so  I  went  in  praver 
to  Jesus,  as  I  -had  often  done,  and  unfolded  my  heart's 
burden  to  him,  for  the  true  believer  has  the  blessed  assur- 
ance that  the  Lord  will  withhold  no  good  thing  from  those 
who  love  him,  and  that  he  doeth  all  things  well.  And  I 
trusted,  if  I  had  not  mistaken  tiie  leadings  of  Providence, 
that  my  humble  prayers  might  in  some  way  be  answered. 
So  one  morning  while  unusually  industrious  over  the  then 
perplexing  and  tangled  passage:  Sic  ait:  et  dicto  citius 
tumida  cequora  placat^  collectasque  fugat  nuhes^  soleruque 
reducit,  in  the  first  book  of  Yirgil,  I  was  surprised  with  a 
message  that  a  couple  of  ladies  in  a  carriage  wanted  to  see 
me.  My  heart  was  all  in  a  flutter.  Who  would  care  to 
see  a  poor  student  in  a  strange  city?  Revolving  in  my 
mind  as  to  what  it  could  all  mean,  with  uncovered  head  I 
approached    the   carriage,   when  two   ladies,   with   sweet, 


186 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


smiling  faces  lianded  me  a  letter,  saying  that  it  contained 
good  news  for  me,  and  then  drove  away.  "Wondering  in 
astonishment  what  it  all  meant,  and  eager  to  learn  the  good 
news,  I  burst  open  the  envelope,  and  six  dollar^  and  sev- 
enty-five cents  met  my  eyes!  Truly  these  two  ladies  were 
angel  messengers  of  mercy  in  this  my  hour  of  need.  But 
my  astonishment  was  still  greater  when  in  the  everwng  the 
post  brought  me  a  letter  from  Mrs.  J.  B.  Skinner,  Rock- 
ford,  111.,  containing  five  dollars,  and  shortly  after  another 
from  the  same  lady  containing  twelve  dollars.  Oh,  could 
it  be  possible  that  the  Lord  was  so  kind  as  to  answer  my 
feeble  prayers  with  such  signal  displays  of  his  goodness. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  187 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

College  Days — A  Strange  Letter —  Wonderful  De- 
liverance— A  Bright  Future — In  Xew  Haven — On 
the  Connecticut — In  ]SIew  York — Startling  Intelli- 
gence— Finding  my  Only  Sister-  -A  Resolve  at  a 
Great  Sacrifice — -In  Racine,  Wis. — Out  of  Employ- 
ment— On  the  Road — Yain  Efforts — Discouraged. 

As  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  constitutes  the 
merits  of  this  sketch,  I  must  here  relate  the  facts  as  they 
transpired,  though  I  was  even  grateful  for  the  privilege  of 
obtaining  my  schooling  under  the  adverse  circumstances 
in  wliich  I  was  placed.  In  some  respects  Mr.  JS^ewton  be- 
friended me,  and  my  gratitude  to  him  for  this  almost  per- 
suades me  to  pass  over  some  things,  but  for  the  good  of 
the  young  reader  for  whom  I  write  this  sketch,  I  must 
adhere  to  my  pui'pose,  but  I  do  so  with  malice  toward 
none.  I  know  eyes  will  fall  on  this  narrative  that  may 
now  wish  it  could  be  changed. 

When  winter  came  I  suffered  much  from  cold,  for  I  had 
to  perform  my  task  in  the  morning,  and  as  the  proprietors 
did  not  deem  it  economy  to  permit  me  to  build  a  fire,  my 
fingers  almost  froze  in  setting  type.  When  I  first  arrived 
I  worked  some  six  weeks  for  the  Kewtons,  all  of  which 
was  applied  on  my  board  arrangement,  and  during  that 
time  there  was  ample  accommodation  at  their  residence; 
but  when  school  opened  somehow  the  proud  and  selfish 
aristocracy  of  the  IS^ewtons  could  not  tolerate  me  in  their 
family.  A  kind  lady,  seeing  this,  offered  me  a  neatly  fur- 
nished room,  but  her  husband  objected,  saying  that  he  did 


1S8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

not  bnild.  his  house  for  the  accommodation  of  Kewton's 
outcasts — he  was  helping  the  Newtons,  not  me.  It  ap- 
peared that  they  tried,  after  they  had  obtained  the  six 
weeks'  work,  to  cast  me  off,  but  I  held  them  to  their  agree- 
ment. Hence,  being  at  their  mercy,  they  gave  me  such 
accommodations  as  they  chose,  and  during  the  cold  winter 
evenings  I  had  to  sit  in  the  kitclien  without  a  fire,  and 
study  by  a  tallow  dip,  as  that  was  a  cent  or  two  cheaper  a 
week.  I  was  not  permitted  to  sit  with  the  family  aroniul 
a  comfortable  fire,  and  could  take  up  with  their  haughty 
actions  or  leave.  Silent  tears  flowed, but  no  one  saw  them; 
my  cheeks  burned  with  indignation,  but  no  one  knew  it. 

The  room  might  have  been  kept  quite  comfortable  if  the 
outside  doors  had  only  been  kept  closed,  but  these  were 
swingiiig  open  every  few  minutes,  and  as  I  was  not  per- 
mitted to  replenish  the  fire,  which  was  usually  suffered  to 
go  down  as  soon  as  tea  was  prepared,  the  room  often  be- 
came very  uncomfortable  as  early  as  seven  or  eight  o'clock. 
I  would  put  my  over-coat  on,  and  then  the  cold  chills  ran 
over  me.  Often  my  hands  would  get  so  cold  that  I  could 
scarcely  turn  the  pages  of  my  lexicons  while  looking  up 
the  meaning  of  words.  The  reader  will  of  course  notice 
I  was  at  this  time  studying  Latin  and  Greek.  Students 
will  know  what  turning  the  leaves  in  the  lexicons  means. 
The  result  was  I  had  a  cold  fastened  upon  me  all  winter, 
and  was  nearly  sick  once  or  twice.  But  I  could  not  think 
of  giving  up  my  studies,  though  I  suffered  more  than  pen 
could  tell.  I  must  go  through  the  University  or  die  in 
the  attempt.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  giving  up  on 
account  of  physical  pains. 

Thus  firmly  resolved,  I  was  even  grateful  for  the  cold 
kitchen  fur  my  studio,  and  a  tallow  dip  by  the  light  of 
which  to  dig  out  Greek  roots.  While  thus  engaged,  a 
scene  which  reminded  me  of  other  and  earlier  days  took 
place.     One  cold   winter  night  as  I  was  bending  over  my 


TEKSONAL    KECOLLECTIOXS.  189 

Greek,  I  thought  I  heard  a  faint  tapping  at  the  kitchen 
door.  I  went  to  the  door,  where  I  found  a  girl,  her  tatter- 
ed garments  all  covered  with  the  drifting  snow,  and  her 
chilled  person  shivering  with  the  cold.  My  heart  was 
moved  in  sympathy  for  the  sufferer,  and  I  tried  to  lighten 
her  sorrow  with  a  cheerful  smile.  She,  looking  up  into 
my  face,  broke  forth  in  a  low,  plaintive  voice:  "Please  give 
me  some  bread,  mother  is  sick  and  destitute."  I  asked 
her  to  come  in,  l)ut  she  refusing,  I  hastened  to  call  the 
folks  of  the  house.  Upon  their  coming  to  the  door,  they 
questioned  the  poor  child  until  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  just 
as  I  have  been  questioned  a  hundred  of  times,  and  then^ 
giving  her  a  cookey,  turned  her  away.  Oh,  how  it  made 
my  heart  ache!  Oh,  what  angels  such  folks  will  make  in 
heaven!  Poor,  miserable  selfishness!  it  blights  the  soul 
in  this  world,  and  damns  it  in  the  next. 

jS'ow,  Mr.  iS'ewton  and  his  family  professed  to  lie  Chris- 
tians. They  had  devotional  exercises  every  mornino-, 
Mrs.  l^ewton  had  baked  that  day,  and  in  turning  the  child 
away  they  not  only  closed  their  hearts  against  a  charity 
which  ought  to  have  made  them  glad  for  the  very  oppor- 
tunity, but  actually  told  a  lie  to  make  it  seem  reasonable. 
But  pride  and  selfishness  did  not  belong  to  the  Xewton 
family  altogether,  but  has  its  devotees  all  over  the  world. 
We  can  trace  it  as  far  back  as  Cain.  In  a  thousand  forms 
it  has  cursed  the  world.  Look  at  those  two  men  who  went 
up  to  the  temple  to  pray.  The  bold,  proud,  well-dressed 
Pharisee,  satisfied  with  himself,  stands  in  the  center  of  the 
court  and  prays' with  well-made  sentences,  and  surely  those 
who  look  upon  him  will  say,  "  There  is  the  gentleman  of 
the  age;"  just  as  we  short-sighted  creatures  fondle  and 
advance  to  honor  many  a  hypocrite,  because  he  has  the 
ability  to  put  on  a  fair  exterior.  But  as  Jesus  comes  into 
the  hall,  he  points  to  that  plainly-clad  publican,  who  stands 
with  tremling  knees  and  bowed  head  in  that  obscure  cor- 


I'jn  AUTOBIOGKAPHY 

ner  near  tlie  door,  and  pravs  in  broken  words  for  mercy, 
and  Jesus  tells  us  that  this  one,  "  rather  than  the  other," 
is  the  Christian. 

The  <^uspel  of  our  Lord  certainly  draws  the  lines  su  plainly 
that  no  one  need  be  mistaken  in  this  Christian  grace,  with- 
out which  it  is  impossible  to  please  God.  Why,  just  look 
at  that  Samaritan  act.  On  that  wild  and  rocky  path  that 
leads  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  lies  a  man  near  that  dark 
pass  in  the  mountains  who  has  been  left  "half  dead"  by 
robbers.  That  well-dressed  Levite  who  looked  upon  him 
a  few  moments  ago,  and  found  that  he  was  one  of  the  com- 
mon people,  and  passed  on,  showed  his  breeding  as  a  gen- 
tleman in  saving  himself  from  the  touch  of  snch  a  man ; 
that  priest,  who  glances  scornfully  upon  the  penniless  suf- 
ferer as  he  passes  by  on  the  other  side,  shows  that  he  is  of 
hicrh  blood  that  must  not  be  contaminated  with  the  common 
crowd.  Surely,  they  are  gentlemen  complete!  But  Jesus, 
by  some  strange  oversight  of  their  Jewish  rank  and  fine 
clothes,  points  us  to  that  low-born  Samaritan,  bending  over 
the  sutfering  man,  softly  wiping  the  ugly  clots  of  blood, 
binding  up  his  wounds,  turning  back  from  his  journey, 
mounting  him  on  his  own  beast,  and  paying  for  him  at  the 
inn,  and  tells  us  that  this  Samaritan  is  the  true  neighbor  of 
the  three.  In  public  highways  of  the  world  you  may  see 
his  monuments;  on  a  thousand  hospitals  you  may  see  his 
name.  Where  are  the  monuments  and  hospitals  that  hon- 
or the  manhood  of  the  priest  and  Levite? 

Around  that  box  at  the  temple  into  which  the  people 
drop  their  gifts  of  charity,  you  can  hear  the  rustle  of  silks 
and  see  the  twinkle  of  jewelry,  as  those  well-dressed  ladies 
drop  in  their  gold;  but  how  they  knit  their  brows  and  draw 
back  their  dresses  as  that  poor  widow,  in  her  threadbare 
garments,  with  her  poorly-dressed  little  one  in  her  arms, 
crowds  up  toward  the  box  and  drops  in  those  two  mites. 
No   one  thanks  her,  although  it  is  "all  her  living;"   but 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  191 

Christ  tells  us  that  this  poor,  meek,  gentle  giver  has  done 
a  greater  act  of  self-denial  "than  they  all." 

We  discover  in  these  examples  that  it  is  not  the  form  or 
parade  which  is  well  pleasing  in  God's  sight,  but  the 
motive  and  the  heart,  for  no  trait  can  so  adorn  and  dignify 
nature  as  kindness.  When  we  know  a  man  to  be  kind,  we 
instinctively  feel  that  he  is  noble,  no  matter  how  humble 
his  circumstances,  or  how  rough  his  external  appearance. 
If  he  has  a  warm  and  generous  heart  we  value  his  good 
opinion,  we  seek  his  society,  we  secretly  put  him  down  on 
our  list  of  friends.  How  often  do  we  hear  the  expression 
concerning  some  one  whose  manners  lack  polish,  who  has 
been  frowned  on  by  fortune,  or  who  has  stepped  aside  from 
the  path  of  rectitude,  "Well,  after  all,  he  is  a  good-hearted 
man."  The  tongue  of  the  traducer  is  silenced,  and  the 
mantle  of  charity  falls  on  the  child  of  misfortune^  so  in- 
stinctively do  we  recognize  the  worth  and  beauty  of  this 
heavenly  virtue. 

To  be  kind,  is  to  be  Godlike,  for  he  is  kind  to  the  evil 
and  to  the  unthankful,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on 
the  unjust.  It  is  in  vain  that  we  call  on  God  to  draw  near 
to  us  so  long  as  we  ignore  those  works  of  practical  good- 
ness by  which  we  can  draw  near  to  him.  He  requires  no 
loud  self-services,  no  tinsel  glitter  of  priestly  forms,  but 
the  silent  incense  of  the  heart,  poured  out  in  behalf  of 
struggling,  aspiring  humanity.  One  of  the  sublimest 
sights  that  can  engage  the  attention  or  gladden  the  hearts 
of  mortals  or  immortals,  is  that  of  a  good  man,  holding 
fast  his  integrity  amidst  corrupt  and  hardening  influences, 
and  never  losing  sight  of  the  fact  that  we  are  all  equally 
dear  to  the  common  Father.  Such  a  man  is  a  center  of 
social  and  moral  influences  around  which  cluster  the  affec- 
tions of  an  entire  community,  and  from  whom  rays  of  fra 
ternal  sympathy  shoot  far  and  wide  into  the  surrounding 
darkness.  May  this  noble  virtue,  my  good  reader,  be  your 


192  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

profession.  I  have  seen  a  great  many  things  in  my  life,  but 
I  have  never  seen  a  man  come  to  want  because  he  spent  his 
fortune  doing  such  acts  as  the  Samaritan  did.  God  will 
certainly  bless  and  prosper  the  generous,  sympathizing 
heart.     They  who  water  shall  be  watered  again. 

Well,  I  struggled  on,  wading  through  difRcnlties  and 
over  obstacles,  and  at  last  came  to  the  close  of  the  school 
year — to  the  last  recitation  under  the  tuition  of  Dr.  D. 
Chase. 

As  the  respective  standing  of  each  student  was  read  be- 
fore the  school,  I  was  surprised  and  astonished  to  hear  my 
name  at  the  top  of  the  list!  It  was  all  unexpected,  and  I 
cannot  describe  my  feelings  as  I  received  the  first  honors 
of  the  Institute,  the  principal  remarking  as  he  gave  it  me, 
''All  must  have  marked  the  industry  and  manly  deport- 
ment, as  well  as  the  studious  habits  of  this  boy."  Of 
course  it  was  gratifying  to  reflect  that  a  green  Illinoisan 
should,  under  so  many  adverse  circumstances,  bear  away 
the  first  honors  from  a  Connecticut  school. 

The  reader  who  has  carefully  traced  my  wanderings  from 
my  Rockford  home  up  to  this,  my  first  triumph  over  diffi- 
culties, cannot  fail  to  notice  that  every  step  was  contested. 
Indeed,  I  could  have  given  up  many  times,  had  the  in- 
clinations of  nature  been  followed.  I  wa^  told  more  than 
once  I  could  never  succeed,  as  it  took  mone}^  to  go  to  school 
with.  But  I  kept  a  brave  heart  and  a  faith  in  God.  Here 
is  the  rock  on  which  I  planted  my  destiny.  The  most 
beautiful  of  all  truths,  the  great  and  crowning  truth  of  all 
truths,  is  that  there  is  a  God — a  God  whose  power  and  love 
perfectly  adapt  him  to  man.  Man  is  a  needy  being,  and 
God  alone  can  meet  his  need.  In  other  words,  God  is  ex- 
actly what  every  man  wants.  It  is  of  more  importance  to 
have  a  clear  perception  of  this  truth,  than  to  see  and  clear- 
ly apprehend  all  other  truths.  Indeed,  it  underlies  all 
others,  and  all  others  will  one  day  sink  into  insignificance 


PEKSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  193 

before  it.  Art  and  science  may  make  it  their  boast  that 
they  can  raise  a  man  to  a  great  height;  that  they  can  de- 
velop and  cultivate,  to  a  wonderful  degree,  his  intellectual 
nature;  and  so  they  can.  But  when  art  has  done  all  it 
can,  when  science  has  done  all  it  can,  man  still  has  nothing 
worth  possessing  if  he  has  not  a  God  of  power  and  love 
to  meet  his  highest  need.  A  human  being  divorced  by 
his  own  willfulness  from  God,  and  trying  to  take  the  long 
and  perilous  journey  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  without 
him,  is  one  of  the  most  pitiful  of  objects.  A  human  being 
trying  to  remodel  and  reconstruct  himself,  and  bring  him- 
self up  from  a  wreck  to  a  perfect  man;  a  rational,  intelli- 
gent existence  trying  to  make  headway  in  this  world,  and 
hoping  to  keep  clear  of  rocks  and  quicksands,  and  make  a 
prosperous  voyage,  and  sail  safely  and  triumphantly  into 
port,  simply  by  the  use  of  his  own  powers,  and  without  faith 
in  God, — shows  most  amazing  folly. 

But  it  seems  to  be  a  great  and  not  fully  answered  ques- 
tion in  these  days,  what  it  is  that  God  does  for  a  man,  and 
how  much  he  does  for  him,  and  what  is  really  the  result  of 
his  faith  in  God. 

If  faith  in  God  brings  nothing  whatever  to  needy  men, 
then  it  is  only  a  fanciful  idea,  a  chimera,  a  delusion, a  some- 
thing to  talk  about  and  write  about,  if  we  choose,  but  of 
no  earthly  use  to  anybody.  I,  however,  am  of  those  who 
believe  that  faith  in  God  brings  something  to  the  needy, 
and  that  its  results  are  glorious  and  everlasting.  I  believe 
that  in  answer  to  this  faith,  God  walks  with  man ;  walks 
by  his  side,  and  works  in  him  and  for  him  most  powerfully 
and  wonderfully.  And  therefore  I  would  say  to  every 
man:  Have  faith  in  God.  But  let  us  not  for  a  moment 
dream  that  because  we  have  faith  in  God  we  may  leave 
God  to  do  everything  for  us,  while  we  do  nothing  for  our- 
selves. 

No:  God  works  for  no  man  who  can,  and  yet  will  not, 
13 


194  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

work  for  himself.  This  is  freely  admitted  by  everybody 
to  a  certain  extent.  It  is  acknowledged  tliat  God  does  not 
give  to  any  one  the  luxuries,  or  even  the  necessary  things 
of  life,  sncli  as  shelter,  food,  and  raiment,  unless  he  works 
for  them.  If  a  man,  grown  weary  and  impatient  of  toil, 
should  conclude  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  in  idleness 
and  ease,  and  live  by  faith  in  God,  he  would  probably  have 
pretty  poor  living,  and  a  pretty  sore  experience  of  poverty. 
Comfortable  homes,  fine  palaces,  fine  equipages,  rare  gar- 
dens, and  rieh  fields,  all  things  that  men  desire  and  enjoy, 
come  only  through  toil,  and  not  God's  toil,  but  man's  toil. 
What  people  want  in  this  world  they  must  work  for.  They 
must  enter  heartily  and  energetically  into  some  field  of 
labor,  and  work  in  it  patiently  and  perseveringly  if  they 
want  what  money  can  buy.  This  is  God's  law.  Toil  and 
the  fruits  of  toil  are  inseparably  connected,  and  it  is  only 
those  who  help  themselves  whose  faith  in  God  as  a  helper 
is  worth  anything.  Probably  no  one  will  say  that  this  is 
unsound  doctrine.  No  man  in  his  right  mind  expects  ease 
or  even  ordinary  comforts,  however  great  may  be  his  faith 
in  God,  without  working  for  them.  And  human  as  well 
as  divine  efiPort  is  necessary  in  education,  whether  of  the 
head  or  the  heart.  Let  a  man  pray:  "  0  God,  make  me  a 
scholar!  Keveal  unto  me  all  the  beauties  and  mysteries 
of  art  and  science,  and  teach  me  all  languages,  and  spare  me 
the  labor  of  study."  Let  him  offer  such  a  prayer,  and  the 
amount  of  his  education  would  soon  be  told.  But  let  him 
ask  God  to  bless  his  eflorts,  and  to  help  him  grow  in  that 
practice  and  perseverance  so  necessary  to  the  pursuit  of  all 
knowledge,  and  let  him  have  faith  that  God  will  answer, 
and  he  will  then  see  exactly  when  and  where  faith  in  God 
comes  in  .to  help  a  man.  He  will  see  how  beautifully  and 
perlectly  this  faith  chimes  with  human  efiort. 

Now,  in  nothing  is  human  effort  so  much  needed  as  in 
the  education  of  the  heart  and  head,  and  it  is  the  duty  of 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  195 

all  who  want  to  be  made  better,  not  only  to  believe  in  God, 
but  to  work  with  him  in  the  greatest  of  all  labor,  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  heart.  Here,  as  in  all  other  things  to  be 
gained,  faith  in  God  will  avail  nothing  if  a  man  does  not 
use  all  possible  means  for  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and 
reach  his  eager  hands  after  all  helps,  and  open  his  eyes 
wide,  that  he  maj  see  whatever  tends  to  pull  him  down  or 
raise  him  up.  And  jet  it  is  taught  by  many,  in  these  last 
days  (we  hope  they  are  the  last  days  of  ignorance  and  folly) 
that  men  may  see  anything  but  themselves;  that  they 
must  not  know  their  own  mental  and  moral  constitution; 
that  if  they  want  to  grow  better  —  in  other  words,  want 
to  grow  in  grace  —  all  they  have  to  do  is  to  have  faith  in 
the  God  of  all  o:race.  But  if  men  knowino-ly  and  willino^- 
ly  reject  any  knowledge  that  would  help  to  make  them 
better,  I  can  not  see  how  they  can  consistently  ask  God  to 
make  them  better,  nor  how  ihey  can  expect  him  to  do  it, 
any  more  than  they  can  expect  him,  without  their  own 
eifort,  to  build  their  houses  for  them,  and  lay  out  the 
grounds,  and  cultivate  their  choice  flowers  and  rich  fruits. 
God  helps  men,  not  by  doing  for  them  what  they  can  do 
themselves,  but  by  directing  them  to  all  tlie  help  that  is 
within  their  reach. 

A  few  weeks  later  the  school  year  of  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity opened,  and  on  tlte  31st  day  of  August,  1865,  I 
became  a  student  in  the  University.  My  expenses  neces- 
sarily increased,  and,  as  I  had  given  the  time  and  labor  of 
all  my  vacations  fox  the  past  year  to  the  Newtons  in  order 
to  retain  my  position,  I  was  in  more  straitened  circum- 
stances than  ever  before;  but  I  was  willing  to  deprive  my- 
self of  every  comfort  of  life,  and  actually  suffered  for  the 
want  of  sufficient  clothes.  With  a  firm  resolution  I  de- 
termined to  meet  every  difficulty,  and  yield  only  when 
compelled  by  necessity.  As  I  now  had  a  room  in  the  col- 
lege buildings,  I  spared  my  employers  the  trouble  of  giv- 


196  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ing  me  their  back  kitchen  for  my  study;  and,  when  cold 
weather  set  in,  I  had  a  quiet  comfortable  place  in  which  to 
study.  Though  I  was  troubled  in  my  mind  and  put  to  my 
wits'  end  to  find  out  some  honest  and  honorable  means  with 
which  to  meet  my  expenses,  yet  I  did  not  lose  my  confi- 
dence in  God,  but  lived  a  life  of  simple  trust;  feeling  that 
he  never  requires  impossibilities  of  his  creatures.  Be- 
sides, other  students  were  struggling,  some  of  them  living 
on  potatoes  and  corn  bread. 

Oh,  could  our  men  of  wealth  only  look  into  the  cold,  cheer- 
less, dismal  rooms  to  be  found  in  almost  every  college  in 
the  land,  and  there  see  noble  but  indigent  young  men  ru- 
ining their  health  in  the  efifort  of  obtaining  an  education 
to  prepare  them  for  future  usefulness,  I  think  their  hearts 
would  be  touched !  But  then,  young  men  that  would  rise 
in  the  world,  must  be  hewers  of  their  own  character,  and 
such  are  always  honored. 

But  my  distress  was  gaining  upon  me,  and,  looking  at 
it  from  a  human  standpoint,  it  did  seem  that  I  must  give 
up,  at  least,  until  I  could  earn  a  little  money  wit^  which 
to  purchase  clothes  and  books. 

During  those  discouraging  days,  many  an  hour  I  spent 
on  my  knees  asking  God  to  help  me.  Hitherto  the  good 
Lord  had  been  merciful  to  me.  I  had  already'  passed  two 
of  the  six  years.  I  had  felt  that  I  was  under  the  leadings 
of  Providence  in  this  matter.  I  had  hoped,  almost  against 
hope,  tliat  I  should  not  at  this  point  be  compelled  to  yield. 
If  my  clothes  would  only  last,  I  could  manage  in  other 
respects  to  go  through  the  school  year.  I  resolved  to  go 
just  as  far  as  I  could,  and  leave  the  rest  with  God. 

But  the  eye  of  Jehovah   was  upon  me,  though,  short- 
sighted and  faithless  as  I  was,  I  could  not  believe.     I  was 
like  the   disciples   of  old  praying   for  the   deliverance   of 
Peter,  and  when  he  stood  at  the  outer  door  knocking  they 
did   not   believe,  but  thought  it  was  his    angel.     Thus  I 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  197 

prayed.     However,  on    this  wise  the  Lord  answered   my 
prayer. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  charge  of  a  Bible  class  in  one 
of  the  city  churches.  For  several  Sabbaths  I  noticed  an 
elderly  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  sitting  in  a  pew 
opposite  my  class  apparently  very  attentively  listening  to 
what  was  said.  One  Sabbath,  in  particular,  I  noticed  her, 
and  invited  her  to  take  a  seat  in  the  class.  But  she  very 
respectfully  declined. 

The  school  closed,  and  I  went  to  my  room  thinking  noth- 
ing more  about  the  lady  —  as  visits  from  strangers  were  of 
frequent  occurrence.  Shortly  after  this  I  received  a  note 
requesting  me  to  call  on  the  writer  at  such  a  time  and 
place.  I  was  much  puzzled  and  wondered  what  it  all 
meant.  Anxiously  I  waited  for  the  evening  to  arrive,  and, 
upon  the  appointed  time,  I  hastened  to  the  residence  of 
the  writer  of  the  note,  and,  to  my  surprise,  the  same  lady 
above  referred  to  answered  the  door  bell,  and  invited  me 
into  the  reception  room. 

Looking  upon  me  pleasantly,  she  said,  in  substance,  that 
for  over  a  year  she  had  seen  me  pass  her  residence  to  my 
work  as  regularly  as  clock  work;  that  she  observed  my 
clothes  were  becoming  threadbare,  that  she  knew  what 
kind  of  men  I  was  working  for;  she  had  observed  me  at 
the  meetings  and  had  watched  my  conduct  for  some  time, 
and  as  she  thought  I  was  worthy  of  whatever  she  should  be- 
stow upon  me,  she  now  purposed  giving  me  my  board 
free  of  charge.  She  added  some  other  words,  but  I  do  not 
know  what  they  were,  for  I  was  so  surprised  that  I  was 
almost  overcome.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  she  really 
meant  all  she  said.  Was  it  possible?  My  board  free  for 
over  three  years?  Yes.  That  w^as  not  all.  She  said  she 
would  take  me  as  a  member  of  her  family.  I  almost 
fainted  under  this  intelligence,  and  replied  to  the  kind 
lady  as  best  I  could,   that   I  deemed  myself  too  unworthy 


198  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

of  SO  great  kindness  yet,  if  it  pleased  her  to  bestow  it,  I 
would  most  thankfully  receive  it.  The  name  of  this  lady 
is  Mrs.  Joseph  "W.  Hayes. 

I  returned  to  my  room  with  heart  overflowing  wdth  grati- 
tude to  the  kind  lady  for  her  generous  act  and  to  God  in 
dealing  so  mercifully  with  me. 

The  next  morning  I  related  the  incident  to  Messrs.  ITew- 
ton,  supposing  that  they  would  certainly  be  glad  to  get  rid 
of  me;  but  on  the  contrary  they  reproached  m.e;  telling  >. 

me  that  they  thought  I  was  more  of  a  man  than  to  accept'  •. 

such  an  offer,  and  from  such  a  source;  that  it  was  very  un- 
certain, and  if  she  turned  me  away,  they  would  never  take  j 
me  again.  This  made  me  feel  uncomfortable,  for  I  knew 
nothing  of  the  woman;  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  accept 
her  hospitality,  their  admonitions  notwithstanding,  for  I 
had  suffered  much  at  their  hands,  and  I  was  now  almost 
destitute  of  clothing,  and  there  was  no  opportunity  to  earn 
any  while  working  under  my  present  contract,  for  they  not 
only  had  two  hours  of  each  day,  and  half  of  Saturday,  but  all 
of  my  vacations.  Yet,  rather  than  to  give  up  my  school 
privileges,  1  would  have  suffered  any  deprivation.  But 
there  was  now  a  change  in  my  favor,  and  I  resolved  to  avail 
myself  of  so  good  an  opportunity,  and  trusted  in  Providence 
for  the  future,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  God  would  not  thus 
mock  my  efforts  and  frustrate  my  purposes.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  acknowledged  the  good  hand  of  the  Lord  in  it  all. 
So  bidding  them  good-bye,  I  started  for  my  new  home. 

I  found  Mrs.  Hayes  to  be  a  kind-hearted  woman  and  a 
most  excellent  Christian  lady.  She  not  only  gave  me  my 
board,  but  had  several  suits  of  clothes  made  for  me,  and 
gave  me  money  to  meet  my  other  expenses;  in  short,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hayes  did  a  great  deal  for  me,  and  may  God  bless 
them  for  it.  I  now  could  not  help  but  feel  that  God  was 
with  me,  and  that  he  had  done  for  me  far  more  than  I  ever 
expected.     Life  now   presented  a  sunny  side,   and    every- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  199 

thing    looked   as   if    the   remainder  of   my  college    days 
would  be  crowned  with  uninterrupted  prosperity. 

Though  these  kind  people  did  so  much  for  me,  yet  I  did 
not  give  myself  over  to  idleness,  for  the  good  Lord  only 
helps  such  as  are  willing  to  help  themselves.  So  during 
the  vacations  I  went  out  and  worked  at  my  trade.  One 
vacation  I  spent  in  Springfield,  Mass.,  which  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  inland  cities  in  the  United  States,  and  noted,  the 
country  through,  for  its  morality  and  literary  culture. 
AVliile  here,  I  worked  in  the  Daily  Union  book  room.  I 
found  Springfield  a  very  pleasant  place  to  live  in.  Its  in- 
habitants were  remarkably  active,  intelligent,  and  thrifty. 
One  of  the  leading  objects  of  interest  to  the  visitor  is  the 
IT.  S.  Armory. 

While  liere  I  had  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  the  preach- 
ing of  Dr.  Ide,  a  Baptist  minister  of  great  ability,  both  as 
a  preacher  and  a  writer.  And  he  was  a  host  in  himself. 
His  pungent  utterances  carried  everything  before  them. 
I  thought  as  I  listened  to  his  convincing  arguments,  elo- 
quent appeals,  and  logical  reasoning,  as  well  as  earnest  en- 
treaties, that  he  was  a  representative  man  the  age  needs.  Yes, 
we  need  men  of  action,  intensified  action,  and,  therefore,  men 
of  influence  and  power,  to  enter  the  arena  of  this  world  and 
fight  the  battle  of  truth  against  error,  and  of  righteousness 
against  sin.  Men  are  needed  who  will  strike  fast  blows 
and  hard  ones — men  who  have  a  purpose  and  an  indomit- 
able will;  men  who  will  yield  to  no  discouragement  and 
who  will  not  allow  themselves  to  sufl:er  defeat-  Men  are 
needed  who  would  rather  die^suflfer  martyrdom — than  to 
submit  tamely  and  passively  to  the  absurd  state  of  thmgs 
which  too  generally  obtains  in  the  social,  civil,  ecclesias- 
tical and  moral  world.  Men  who  go  forth  in  the  might  of 
Cioa  to  uprouL,  cind  tear  down,  and  utterly  overthrow  and 
cast  out  all  these  formulaes,  conventionalisms,  legal  en- 
actments, and  selfish  aims  and  artifices  which  stand  in  the 


200  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

way  of  gospel  freedom  and  the  proper  development  of  re- 
deemed human  nature.  The  world  is  everywhere  in  per- 
ishing need  of  men  who  cannot  be  scared,  bought,  or  sold 
— will  tell  the  truth  fearlessly  and  take  the  consequences. 

We  have  had  enough  of  hair-splitting  theology  on  points 
of  minor  importance,  of  subtle  metaphysics,  of  practical 
atheism,  of  fawning  and  of  general  time-serving.  The  peo- 
ple are  being  surfeited  with  these  things,  while  the  "weight- 
ier matters  of  the  law,  judgment  and  truth,"  are  being  too 
much  overlooked,  or  purposely  ignored.  It  would  seem  as 
if  the  great  pendulum  of  the  moral  world  has  been  swing- 
ing hellward  until  it  had  reached  that  extremity  of  its  arc, 
and  must  ao-ain  from  this  time  vibrate  heavenward. 

The  people,  vast  multitudes  of  them,  are  ready  for  the 
pure  truth,  and  will  receive  it  if  it  be  spoken  in  the  fear 
and  love  of  God — no  matter  how  plain,  the  plainer  the  bet- 
ter. "The  harvest  of  the  earth  is,"  in  this  respect,  "fully 
ripe" — at  least  this  is  true  in  multitudes  of  places — and 
all  that  is  necessary  is  for  the  right  kind  of  men  to  "thrust 
in  the  sickle  and  reap." 

A  sickly  sentimentalism,  abstract  creeds,  dry  forms, 
numbers,  position,  and  wealth,  cannot  accomplish  the  work 
to  be  done.  These  are  sufficiently  prevalent  and  in  vogue 
almost  everywhere  throughout  the  wide  extent  of  Chris- 
tendom, but  the  world  grows  no  better  for  their  existence. 
They  do  not  reacli  the  evil,  but  stop  short — very  far  short. 
A  vitality  must  be  infused  into  all — a  vitality  which  comes 
only  from  God,  and  which  is  conveyed  through  men  who 
are  wholly  consecrated  to  his  will. 

The  great  need  of  these  times  is  'power,  powe?,  powee — 
more  power,  moral  power,  omnipotent  power — power  to 
stir  men  and  devils — power  with  God,  powei-  to  prevail 
against  all  opposition — power  to  stand  and  withstand  per- 
secution; to  flourish,  like  the  burning  bush,  unconsumed 
in  fire.     This  is  the  power  that  comes  of  moral  purity,  of 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  201 

a  single  aim  to  please  God.  It  is  the  art  of  hitching  on  to 
Omnipotence  bj  faith,  and  making  the  power  of  God  our 
own — available  to  us  for  the  work  to  be  done. 

In  spite  of  all  the  means  usually  resorted  to  to  reach 
and  save  men,  they  will  sleep  on,  dream  on,  die  in  their 
sins,  and  perish  everlastingly,  Something  more,  something 
different,  is  needed.  God  holds  his  servants  to  the  real, 
stern,  old-fashioned,  soul-subduing  and  soul-saving  truths 
of  the  Bible  as  the  sine  qiia  non  (i.  e.  the  indispensible 
condition)  of  success  in  this  work — those  truths  so  unpal- 
atable to  the  carnal  heart,  and  yet  so  powerful  to  save  men; 
so  much  resisted,  and  yet  so  irresistible;  so  little  appre- 
ciated, and  yet  so  indispensable. 

If  they  do  not  preach  these  truths  he  will  not  receive 
their  services,  he  will  not  own  them  as  his  workmen  nor 
accept  their  work.  Gud  always  has,  and  always  will,  set 
his  seal  to  his  own  truth  when  it  is  uttered  plainly,  fear- 
lessly, and  in  faith.  He  will  ever  accompany  truth  thus 
uttered  by  his  mighty  power  in  such  a  manner  as  to  con- 
vince gainsayers,  confound  skeptics,  and  show  the  people 
that  he  is  God,  and  that  they  are  but  worms.  Men  are 
therefore  needed  who  will  thus  expound  God's  Word,  who 
will  thus  preach  his  truth — men  who  will  not,  who  dare 
not. 

Smooth  down  the  sacred  text  to  ears  polite, 
And  snugly  keep  damnation  out  of  sight, — 

men  who  will  eagerh^  enter  any  and  every  open  door  of 
usefulness,  and  where  no  door  is  open,  force  one  open. 

Earnest,  self-denying  men,  who  count  not  their  own  lives 
dear  unto  themselves,  only  so  they  may  do  their  whole  duty 
and  finish  their  whole  course  with  joy,  are  wanted  in  every 
department  of  moral  enterprise.  Of  pi^^mies  there  are 
plenty;  but  where  are  the  moral  heroes?  A  very  few  there 
are,  bless  God!     But  how  few  and  scattering,  and  how  in- 


202  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

adequate  to  tlie  moral  want  of  the  age.  Lilliputian  souls 
are  numerous;  but  how  few  are  great,  noble,  generous, 
magnanimous,  self-sacrificing  labr»rers,  overflowing  with 
love  to  God  and  man.  A  few  names  there  are  who  have 
not  defiled  their  garments  in  the  stagnant  pool  of  time- 
serving, nor  in  the  filthv  waters  of  self-cotnplacency.  And 
how  they  shine!  How  precious  and  valuable  tliey  are;  of 
what  priceless  worth  in  such  a  world  as  tkis!  Oh,  that 
their  number  might  be  greatly  augmented!  This  is  the 
pressing  want  of  these  days. 

Oh,  that  a  multitude  of  such  men  might  be  raised  up  to 
stay  the  ever-increasing  tide  of  wickedness.  Souls  here 
and  there  are  perishing  by  the  million  for  want  of  the 
bread  of  life.  Who  will  break  it  to  them?  AVho  will  rise 
up  and  feed  to  these  poor  souls  the  "  true  bread  from 
heaven"?  In  many  places  the  Macedonian  cry  is  raised, 
''  Come  over  and  help  us."  Thousands,  yea  millions,  ot 
souls  are  perishing  for  want  of  gospel  light.  Sinners  are 
heedlessly  pursuing  the  broad  road  that  leads  to  endless 
ruin,  and  many  are  standing  at  the  very  brink  of  the  grave, 
soon  to  be  hurled  into  eternity  before  a  just  God,  to  appear 
at  his  inflexible  bar  unprepared,  without  a  hope  in  Christ. 
Oh,  how  much  these  souls  need  competent  spiritual  guides 
to  point  them  to  the  "  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the 
sin  of  the  world  I"  Xo  one  to  tell  them  of  the  power  and 
willingness  of  Christ  to  save — of  the  all-cleansing  blood; 
no  one  to  warn  them  effectually  to  "flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come!"  Everywhere  the  fields  are  white  to  the  harvest, 
and  what  is  wanted  is  more  men  and  means.  How  the 
precious  cause  languishes  beciiuse  there  are  not  more  zeal- 
ous laborers.  We  need  enthusiastic  men — men  who  are 
willing  to  sacrifice  their  all,  and  consecrate  themselves  to 
the  work  of  the  Redeemer,  to  spread  the  everlasting  gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ  to  fallen  and  perishing  humanity. 

We  are  thankful  that  every  denomination  has  its  fearless 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  203 

sxponents  of  God's  word.  It  is  the  blessed  privilege  of 
sverv  minister  to  have  power  with  God  and  with  men. 
Wlmt  a  blessing  snch  men  are  to  the  world.  Plow  they 
aise  the  aching,  longing  heart  np  towards  heaven.  When 
'  listened  to  such  men  as  Ide,  Holland,  Cnmings,  Vincent, 
-nd  others,  I  wanted  to  light  my  torch,  be  it  ever  so  feeble, 
rom  oft'  the  altar  fires  of  their  hearts,  and  with  devotion 
)roclaim  the  everlasting  gospel  in  great  love,  yet  fearlessly 
,nd  with  unction  that  would  reach  the  heart. 

To  this  end  I  redoubled  my  energies,  re-consecrated  my 
ife,  and  counted  it  a  privilege  to  make  any  sacrifices  if  I 
aiorht  but  obtain  the  needed  mental  traininof. 

Being  greatly  refreshed  I  returned  to  the  school  to  re- 
ume  mv  studies  for  another  term  wnth  increased  industrv 
Lnd  diligence.  To  me  stndy  was  a  pleasure,  and  books 
fere  more  pleasing  companions  than  the  idle,  kid-gloved, 
asliionable  snobs  who  think  themselves  somebody  because 
heir  parents  are  blessed  with  a  few  dollars.  But  so  goes 
he  world. 

I  spent  three  vacations  in  Hartford,  noted  for  its  pretty 
7omen — but  then  the  ladies  all  are  beautiful. 

I  suppose  this  city  has  more  insurance  companies'  than 
,ny  other  in  the  country.  Here  I  worked  on  the  Hartford 
Daily  Post.  This  city  was  only  some  sixteen  miles  from 
^liddletown,  and  hence  I  visited  it  quite  often.  But  by 
he  river  it  is  about  twenty  miles,  and  it  was  my  pleasure 
0  skate  the  entire  distance  once  in  two  hours.  Perhaps  it 
70uld  be  no  more  than  fair  to  add  that  I  skated  with  and 
LOt  against  the  wind.  I  must  add  that  Hartford  is  one  of 
he  neatest  built  cities  in  all  !N"ew  England.  Indeed  it  is  a 
)lace  I  would  very  much  desire  to  live  in. 

For  culture  and  refinement  few  cities  in  this  country 
)resent  greater  advantages  than  Hartford.  The  coUeires, 
chools.  and  churches  are  among  the  most  attractive  build- 
ngs  in  the  city.  The  old  Cenrer  Church  is  historically 
:nown  as  one  of  the  Puritan  landmarks. 


204  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

But  tliis  bcantitul  place,  like  every  other  in  the  land,  ig 
cursed  with  the  minions  of  ruin.  There  is  a  locality  in 
the  eastern  portion  of  the  city  which  ])resents  a  picture  oi 
human  life  at  once  dark  and  sickening.  As  I  beheld  the 
demoralized  condition  and  the  dej^raved  and  vicious  lookf 
of  those  people  steeped  in  sin,  I  wondered  if  it  was  possible 
that  any  of  them  ever  would  enter  heaven.  Doubtless  i1 
was  such  sights  as  this  represented  which  called  out  the 
great  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God.  When  we  take  in  the 
magnitude,  even  from  a  finite  standpoint,  of  so  great  i 
salvation,  we  can  but  exclaim:  Oh,  the  love  of  Christ 
The  abounding,  unmeasured,  unspeakable  love  of  Christ 
Who  shall  sound  its  depth,  or  ascend  to  its  height,  or  searcl 
out  its  breadth?  A  shoreless  sea  w^hose  depth  has  nevei 
been  fathomed!  A  tower  of  strength  to  whose  summii 
none  have  ascended!  A  land  of  liberty  and  joy  whose 
boundaries  are  unknown!  It  is  like  water  to  the  thirsty 
like  food  to  the  famishino^,  like  home  to  the  wanderer,  thii 
all-embracing,  all-sustaining,  all-sufticient  love  of  Christ 

It  is  like  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  liuul 
Wlien  the  soul  grows  fatigued  and  laint  with  hcj-  journe^^ 
over  the  barren  sands,  that  every  life-path  at  tinges  lead: 
over;  wiien  the  garnish  glare  of  earthly  splendors  that  gleair 
and  dazzle  but  do  not  satisfy  is  become  a  weariness  to  botl 
fiesh  and  spirit;  then  how  sweet  to  rest  in  the  shadow  o; 
the  Ttock  of  Ages. 

The  love  of  Christ!  It  makes  the  wilderness  to  bud  an( 
blossom  jas  the  rose;  it  makes  the  arid  deserts  of  care  anc 
toil  gush  with  lucent  springs,  and  gleam  with  silver-tonguec 
and  shining  streams!  It  smoothes  the  roughest  path,  i 
lightens  the  heaviest  load;  it  softens  the  hardest  blow,  anc 
brijrhtens  the  darkest  wav.  It  adds  hiijfher  luster  to  th( 
brigliest  hours,  it  brings  a  purer  joy  to  the  hap})iest  lot 
the  fairest  days  were  dark  without  it,  the  gladdest  thoughti 
are  sad  beside  it. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  205 

Crowd  all  the  charms  of  tliis  beautiful  earth  into  one 
vored  spot,  pour  all  the  blessings  of  beauty,  all  the  pleas- 
'es  of  taste  and  intellect,  all  the  sweetness  of  human  love, 
1  the  honors  and  s})lendors  and  comfort  of  this  world  up- 
1  the  fortunate  dweller  there,  but  withhold  from  him  the 
ve  of  Christ,  and  he  walks  unsatisfied,  with  a  void  in  his 
jart  that  nothing  can  fill!  Isolate  him  instead  within  the 
irkest  dungeon,  deny  him  the  light  of  day,  the  sound  of 
iman  voices,  the  sight  of  dear  faces — but  leave  him  the 
ve  of  Christ,  and  behold  the  darkness  is  light  about  him. 

A  love  that  never  fades,  never  fails,  never  wanes,  never 
langesi  A  love  that  never  wearies  of  our  follies  and 
ebleness,  that  calls  for  no  charm  in  us  to  win  it,  that 
nds  his  own  strength  to  our  weakness.  A  love  that  de- 
^hts  to  bless,  that  asks  naught  but  faithfulness  to  itself, 
id  forgives  a  thousand  lapses  in  that! — that  rejoices  in 
)ing  good  even  to  the  unthankful  and  the  evil. 

A  love  that  comforts  the  mourner,  and  points  beyond  the 
dl  and  the  coffin  and  the  open  tomb,  beyond  the  daisied 
ound  and  the  shut  door  of  the  vault  to  the  shinino^  shore 
iyond  the  river,  where  the  ransomed  walk,  saved  through 
le  love  of  Christ,  where  the  parted  meet,  re-united  in  the 
)nds  of  peace.  A  love  that  cheers  the  dying  and  saves 
le  trembling  soul,  that  opens  the  gates  from  this  land  of 
le  dvino^  to  vonder  land  of  the  livino:!  Who  shall  de- 
iribe  it?  Who  shall  do  it  justice?  Kot  I.  "For  I  am 
3rsuaded  that  neither  death  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  prin- 
palities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to 
)me,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall 
3  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in 
hrist  Jesus  our  Lord!" 

While  this  love  is  precious  to  the  Christian,  and  a  con- 
)lation  amid  the  darkest  clouds  of  human  trials,  yet  how 
ttle  is  it  appreciated  or  valued  by  those  whose  lives  are 
I  open  rebellion  to  the  divine  government! 


206  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

While  traveling  ])etweeii  Springtield  and  Hartford  I  for 
the  first  time  saw  the  tobacco  plant  growing  in  the  field, 
and  if  the  tobacco  users  could  see  the  filthy  green  worm 
that  chews  it  before  them,  I  think  they  would  turn  from 
the  disgusting  and  filthy  habit.  If  there  is  anything  that 
would  grieve  the  lieart  of  God,  it  is  to  see  the  beautiful 
and  fertile  valley  uf  the  Connecticut  between  Hartford  and 
Springfield — the  garden  of  ]S'ew  England — all  given  up  to 
raising  that  filthy  weed — tobacco.  Another  sad  thought 
struck  me  very  forcibly,  viz:  The  poor  students — such  as 
have  no  regular  trades  to  work  at^ — usually  find  employ- 
ment— about  the  only  work  they  can  find — in  these  to- 
bacco fields.  I  have  heard  them  say  that  it  used  to  make 
them  very  sick  to  pick  off"  those  filthy  worms  from  the  leavef 
of  the  plant.  But  necessity  forc'ed  them  to  become  unwilling 
laborurs  in  the  production  of  this  unmitigated  nuisance. 

I  also  had  the  privilege  of  spending  one  vacation  in  Nev 
Haven — the  city  of  elms.  I  never  saw  a  more  beautifu 
street  than  xVrch.  The  branches  of  the  elms  on  either  side 
interlacing,  form  a  perfect  arch.  There  is  a  pump  on  th( 
campus  whose  waters  are  so  pure,  sparkling  and  sweet  tha 
it  is  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  travelers;  and  I  have 
gone  a  mile  in  order  to  drink  at  its  fount.  Truly,  th( 
waters  flowing  from  Siloam's  shady  rill  could  not  hav( 
been  more  healthful  than  these. 

1  have  since  learned  that  the  pump  has  been  removed 
and  the  well  filled  up.  One  such  fountain  is  worth  mon 
to  any  city  than  all  the  saloons  in  the  land.  It  is  my  opin 
ion  that  if  suitable  fountains  were  constructed  in  publi< 
places  of  our  towns  and  cities,  and  made  free  and  invitin< 
to  all,  there  would  not  be  half  the  drunkenness  that  nov 
curses  the  land.  In  Germany,  I  remember,  they  had  sucl 
fountains  erected  on  almost  every  street,  and  thousands 
during  the  summer  hours,  came  and  slaked  their  thirst. 

Here,  it  was  my   first  privilege  to  live  by  the  seashore 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  207 

And  there  was  a  marked  difterence  both  in  the  temperature 
and  smell  of  the  atmosphere.  Here  was  a  rare  opportunity 
for  me.  I  used  to  go  down  to  the  sea  shore  and  pick  up 
curiously  formed  shells  on  the  beach,  listen  to  tlie  music  of 
the  wavelets  falling  in  silvery  spray  on  the  pebbly  shore, 
and  enjoy  the  pure  sea  breezes  and  bathe  in  the  dark  blue 
waters.  Oh,  happy  were  these  hours  as  I  roamed  along  the 
shore  of  the  far-sounding  sea  and  looked  out  over  its  dark- 
ling waters!  If  one  wishes  to  witness  the  display  of  Al- 
might}^  power,  let  him  behold  the  angry  billows  lashing 
their  fury  on  the  shore  with  a  noise  more  terrific  than 
bursting  cannon,  when  the  depths  of  the  ocean  are  agitated 
and  waves  mountain-high  roll  their  crested  brows  shore- 
ward, sweeping  everything  in  their  pathway.  Such  a  sight 
is  both  sublime  and  awe-inspiring. 

There  was  a  lofty  clilf  over  against  the  city,  to  the  summit 
of  which  I  was  wont  to  climb  in  the  cool  of  the  summer 
evenings  and  sit  on  its  brow  and  note  the  busy  rush  of 
business  of  Connecticut's  metropolis  in  the  valley  below, 
and  then  raise  my  eyes  and  look  out  over  the  waters  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see.  In  the  far  distance,  the  outlines  of 
Long  Island  could  be  seen — a  mere  black  line  along  the 
horizon.  To  the  west,  hill  on  hill  arose  while  fertile  val- 
leys with  fields  and  meadow  brooks  spread  out  between. 
Being  weary,  I  sat  down  to  rest  and  meditate.  From  the 
brow  of  the  uplifted  peak  before  me,  the  sun  has  just  flash- 
ed back  to  earth  his  last  parting  glance,  and  out  from  the 
gloomy  caves  of  night,  dark  shadows  are  gliding  like  spec- 
tres grim  and  grey,  creeping  silently  across  fields  of  bloom- 
ing clover  and  verdant  grass,  tripping  lightly  over  flowery 
vales  and  mossy  knolls;  darting  swiftly  up  the  woody  hill- 
sides, and  folding  all  this  weary  world  in  one  broad  robe 
of  darkest  grey.  Pressed  by  unseen  fingers,  the  flowers 
unclose  their  jeweled  doors,  and  pouring  forth  a  flood  of 
fragi'ance  fill  the  air  with  richest  perfumes.     The  songs  of 


208  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the  merry  little  brook,  seem  set  to  a  minor  key,  so  soft  and 
subdued  are  its  murmurings.  A  state  of  dreamy  languor 
pervades  all  nature,  and  in  the  blessed  hush  of  this  holy 
hour,  unbinding  the  galling  shackles  of  toil  and  wrapping 
about  my  weary  frame  the  soft  mantle  of  quiet  repose,  I 
yield  to  the  gentle  influence  of  peace,  that  falls  like  the 
silvery  drops  of  a  summer  shower  on  my  weary,  aching 
heart,  washing  therefrom  the  accumulated  dust  of  another 
day's  march  in  the  great  highway. 

All  day  conflicting  thoughts  have  thronged    my  brain. 
On  the  troubled  waters  of  fear  and  doubt  I  have  drifted  up 
and  down,  while  the  chilling  spray  fell  thick  on    my  trem- 
bling soul.     Surging  high  above  my  head  the  gloom-crested 
waves    threatened    to  overwhelm    my   little   bark   Hope, 
with  all  its  holy   freight  of  happiness  and  joy;  but    now, 
safely  anchored  in  the  sunny  cove  of  trust,  I  look  back  over 
the  foaming  sea,  and  spanning  the  dark  expanse,  with  col- 
ors undimmed,  the    bow   of  peace   appears,    and    smiling 
sweetly  down  upon  me  from  a  sky  serene,  the  sfln-rays  of 
Hope  flood  my  soul  with  pure  and  holy  joy.     I  seem  in  a 
new  world.     Calm  as  the  rays  that  fall  upon  me  from  the 
rising   moon,  are   the  waters  on  which    I    rest    to-night. 
Over  the  murmuring  sea  on  balm-laden  gales,  from    that 
not  far-away  spirit  land,  whose  thrilling  strains  rouse  the 
slumbering  energies  of  my  soul,  and    from  its  joy-lit  re- 
cesses, in  answering  harmony  with  the  angel  chorus,  rises 
a  swelling  praise  to  him  who  maketh  it  light  at  evening 
time,  and   whispers   in    my  listening  ear  in  accents  softer 
and  sweeter  than  the  breath  of  flowers,  "  My  peace  I  give 
unto  you;  not  as  the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you." 

After   holding   with  the  invisible  communion   so  sweet 
and  soul-satisfying,  and  beholding  with  Faith's  clear  vis- 
ion   the   untold   glories  of  the  Eternal,  what   wonder   the 
chained  soul  longs  to  break  tlie  cords  that  bind  it  to  earth,, 
and  soar  on  untrained  wings  up  into  higher,  purer  realms; 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  209 

shrinking  from  the  touch  of  things  terrestrial,  and  like 
the  awe-stricken  Apostles,  wishing  never  to  leave  the  holy 
mount;  rather  making  thereon  tabernacles  for  an  eternal 
habitation.  But  life  has  its  sterner  duties  from  which  we 
must  not  shrink.  There  are  deep,  sunless  vales  of  hard 
endeavor,  as  well  as  joy-wreathed  mounts  of  peace,  for  us 
to  pass  in  our  journey  to  the  Celestial  City.  "  Go  work 
in  my  vineyard"  is  a  command  resting  upon  all.  IS^one 
are  exempt,  the  divine  edict  extending  to  every  son  and 
daughter  of  Adam.  It  is  our  duty,  then,  as  subjects  of  an 
all-wise  ruler,  to  labor;  it  is  essential  to  our  happiness  and 
the  fulfillment  of  our  mission  on  earth.  We  disobey  God 
and  incurring  the  divine  displeasure,  suffer  a  merited  pun- 
ishment, if,  folding  our  hands  in  inglorious  ease,  we  eat 
daily  of  the  honeyed  bread  of  idleness.  But  labor  hath  a 
deeper  import,  a  higher  and  holier  object  than  simply 
gathering  the  perishable  things  of  earth.  There  is  a  heav- 
enly manna,  the  soul's  daily  food,  for  which  we  ought 
all  to  earnestly  seek,  without  which  the  famished  soul 
shrinks  into  an  image  of  deformity,  an  object  of  pity  in 
the  sight  of  wandering  angels.  Ah!  how  many  are  there 
starving  the  soul  to  nourish  and  adorn  the  body;  forgetful 
of  the  exceeding  worth  of  the  inner  above  the  outer  man. 
One  Sabbath  evening  I  went  to  a  fashionable  church, 
but,  while  the  ushers  in  silver  slippers  and  with  smiling 
faces  gushingly  received  those  who  had  on  goodly  apparel, 
none  of  them  noticed  me  or  offered  to  give  me  a  seat.  Of 
course  I  retired  to  my  boarding  place,  revolving  many 
things  in  my  mind.  At  another  time,  having  obtained 
entrance  at  another  church,  I  was  equally  astonished  in 
hearing  the  preacher,  in  the  course  of  his  sermon,  declare 
that  he  had  no  patience  with  those  who  always  dealt  with 
the  first  principles  of  the  gospel,  or  that  were  hunting  up 
young  men  to  swell  the  numbers  of  the  membership.  He 
said  his  church  had  got  beyond  first  principles,  and  as  for 
14 


210  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

additions  to  tlie  church,  it  was  full:  it  did  not  need  more. 
I  was  confounded,  for  I  had  never  so  understood  the  gos- 
pel. Again  I  thought,  and  put  things  together,  and  again 
I  wondered  what  it  all  meant.  Only  a  stone's  throw  from 
the  church  where  I  heard  this  sermon,  a  man  told  me  he 
could  count  fifty  prostitutes  in  one  block  alone.  While  I 
was  slow  to  believe  this  statement,  yet,  I  saw  many  painful 
sights.  I  was  working  on  a  morning  paper  part  of  my 
time,  which  usually  caused  my  work  to  end  at  three  or 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and,  at  that  late  hour,  I  passed 
a  dance  house  filled  with  drunkenness  and  revelry  and 
dancing.  What  a  picture?  not  w^anted  at  the  churches. 
And  who  shall  be  responsible  for  the  loss  of  those  souls? 

There  is  a  day  of  wrath  coming.  It  will  come  some- 
time though  long  deferred.  And  one  of  the  advantages 
vouchsafed  unto  us  by  the  gospel  of  grace  is  the  tender 
mercies  of  a  loving  Saviour,  and  the  offer  of  pardon  and 
full  salvation  to  all  who  will  accept  through  Christ.  It  is 
the  part  of  basest  ingratitude  to  resist  the  heavenly  en- 
treaties, expostulations,  invitations,  and  promises  so  lov- 
ingly, freely  and  mercifully  held  out  to  perishing,  helpless 
man.  We  sometimes  think  that  those  who  reject  so  great 
good,  offered  to  them  on  so  liberal  conditions,  do  not  fully 
comprehend  or  take  in  the  magnitude  of  the  atonement. 
Did  they  realize  it  in  all  its  proportions,  it  would  seem  that 
no  rational  mind  would  give  sleep  to  the  eyelids  until  the 
soul's  safety  was  secured. ' 

ISl^either  the  preacher  who  does  not  want  the  people 
reached  by  the  gospel,  nor  yet  the  deluded  and  self-deceived 
will  be  held  guiltless,  though  the  heavens  may  bend  in 
mercy,  and  the  Mediator  stay  the  arm  of  Omnipotence. 
Every  soul  is  required  to  work  out  its  own  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling.  Let  me  for  a  moment  pause,  and 
present  some  of  the  considerations  which  will  fill  our 
minds   and  engage  our   thoughts  when  the  ''  day   of  his 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  211 

wrath"  shall  appear.  To  enter  more  clearly  into  the 
thoughts  under  consideration,  we  recommend  the  careful 
reading  of  the  6th  chapter  of  Revelation.  So  terrible  will 
be  that  day  spoken  of  by  the  Revelator  that  the  physical 
world  shall  be  convulsed,  the  sun  turned  to  blackness,  the 
moon  to  blood,  the  stars  fall  from  their  orbits,  the  moun- 
tains be  wrenched  from  their  primal  setting,  the  islands 
lashed,  and  the  very  heavens  rolled  together  as  a  scroll. 
Men  will  be  stricken  with  great  fear,  and  in  their  terror 
will  run  to  the  mountains  and  caves  and  will  cry  unto  the 
rocks,  saying,  "  Fall  on  us,  and  hide  us  from  the  face  of 
him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of  the 
Lamb,  for  the  great  day  of  his  wrath  is  come;  and  who 
shall  be  able  to  stand!"  And  what  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb, 
the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  can  be  in  that  day  we  do  not 
know  unless  it  is  to  visit  on  those  who  have  slighted  his 
mercies  and  spurned  his  offers  the  merited  and  justly 
deserved  punishment. 

But  is  it  possible  to  take  into  the  mind  and  for  the  im- 
agination to  forecast  the  terribleness  of  that  day  as  it  shall 
flash  over  the  world  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye?  It  will 
come  at  just  such  a  time  when  men  will  least  expect  it; 
when  the  world's  great  workshops  shall  be  peopled  with 
men,  women  and  children.  iNo  universal  blast  of  death 
will  have  first  swept  across  the  earth,  and  depopulated  it  of 
its  inhabitants.  Living  men  and  women  and  children  will 
be  all  over  the  world  when  the  day  comes,  as  full  of  strength, 
health,  vigor,  activity,  thought,  forethouglit,  as  at  any 
period  since  God  first  "  breathed  into  man's  nostrils  the 
breath  of  life." 

It  will  come  when  men  aie  blind  to  its  cominfir,  each  in 
his  own  blindness,  asleep  —  each  in  his  own  dream.  The 
astronomer  will  be  calculating  his  eclipses  for  years  to 
come  —  the  physician  ^vill  be  studying  his  arts,  to  add 
length  of  days  to  man's  body — the  philosopher,  with  his 


212  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

'^  philosophy  falsely  so  called,"  will  be  improving  and  en- 
lightening his  species  —  the  politician  will  be  planning 
beautifnl  schemes  for  man's  welfare  in  ages  onward — the 
man  of  riches  will  be  saying  to  his  soul:  "Soul,  thou  hast 
mucli  goods  laid  up  for  many  years;  take  thine  ease,  eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry  " — the  "  man  that  will  be  rich  "  will 
be  toiling  and  laboring  after  his  "filthy  lucre,"  rising  up 
early  and  sitting  up  late — the  man  that  "livetli  in  pleasure" 
will  be  sending  for  "  the  harp  and  the  viol,  the  tabret,  and 
pipe  and  wine,"  to  be  in  his  "  feast,"  regarding  "  not  the 
work  of  the  Lord,  neither  considering  the  operation  of  his 
hands  " — blind  preachers  will  be  speaking  their  smooth 
things  and  prophesying  their  deceits,  each  in  his  own  de- 
lusion, but  all  of  them  blinding  men's  eyes  to  the  day — the 
king,  and  the  noble,  and  the  magistrate,  and  the  farmer, 
and  the  tradesman,  and  the  laborer — the  mean  man  and 
the  mighty  man,  the  married  and  the  unmarried,  the  peo- 
ple and  the  priest,  the  servant  and  his  master,  the  maid  and 
her  mistress,  the  buyer  and  the  seller,  the  lender  and  the 
borrower,  the  taker  of  usury  and  the  giver  of  usury  to  him 
— shall  all  be  weaving  their  webs  of  distant  years  and  dis- 
tant things,  turning  time  into  eternity,  thinking  sCnd  speak- 
ing of  time's  world  as  never-ending,  at  the  very  instant 
when  the  day  of  His  wrath  shall  send  the  thoughtless  and 
mercy-rejecting,  and  God-hating,  and  Christ-spurning,  and 
rebellious,  and  heaven-defying  multitudes  on  their  knees 
imploring  the  mountains  and  the  rocks  to  fall  on  them. 
And  what  a  prayer  of  seif-accusation,  of  self-reproach,  of 
despair,  it  will  be! 

But  who  can  fathom  the  human  heart  save  the  Almighty? 
Wlien  the  five  cities  of  the  plains  were  about  to  meet  their 
doom,  it  is  said  of  their  inhabitants  that  they  oflered  vio- 
lence to  the  very  angels  who  came  as  monitors  of  the  im- 
pending doom.  AVTiether  the  world  shall  be  better  or  worse 
at  that  day  than  it  is  now,  is  a  question  worthy  of  the  pro- 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  213 

foundest  tlioiiglits  of  the  ablest  thinkers  of  the  age.  At 
all  events  it  will  be  bad  enouo^h.  Doubtless  there  will  be 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  living  men,  eating  and 
drinking,  buying  and  selling,  planting  and  building;  flat- 
tering like  the  butterflies  in  a  summer's  day  about  the 
perishing  flowers  of  a  perishing  world;  steeping  all  their 
senses  in  the  earthly  business  of  the  passing  hour;  making 
everything  a  business,  whether  pleasure,  daily  avocation,  or 
necessarv  labor.  The  farmer  will  be  at  his  market,  the 
planter  with  his  trees,  the  ouilder  at  his  house,  the  trades- 
man in  his  shop,  the  student  at  his  books,  the  reveller  at 
his  feast,  the  gambler  at  his  cards,  the  rake  at  his  revels, 
the  usurer  at  his  gold,  the  nobleman  at  his  pomp,  the  king 
at  his  court,  the  soldier  in  his  camp,  the  laborer  at  his  toil, 
the  idler  at  his  folly,  the  drunkard  at  his  drink,  the  glutton 
at  his  meat!  Each  at  his  sin,  each  in  his  day-dream,  each 
in  his  soul's  poison!  The  Lord  bears  it  no  longer.  His 
mouth  has  sent  forth  the  word  of  all-desolating  vengeance. 
The  vengeance  storm  obeys,  and  gathers  and  thickens,  and 
rolls  on,  and  hangs  over.  One  moment's  pause — the 
preachers  are  preaching — j^^rad  venture  the  sinners  may  re- 
pent. One  moment's  pause — hark!  the  pause  is  terrible — 
hark!  "A  shout,  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  the  trump 
of  God."  And  the  world  will  roll  inflames  of  living  fires, 
while  over  the  crash  of  burning  worlds,  the  shrieks  of 
startled  and  unprepared  millions,  a  voice  shall  be  heard — a 
voice  louder  than  mighty  thunders,  louder  than  the  lashing 
of  ocean  waves,  more  awful  thfm  dissolving  elements: 
"  Time  is  no  more!" 

Oh,  what  a  day  of  separation  —  instant  and  awful  — 
will  that  day  indeed  be!  Two  of  a  household  shall  be  in 
one  bed,  brothers,  it  may  be,  that  have  grown  up  together, 
eating  of  the  same  meat  and  drinking  of  the  same  cup — 
two  women  of  one  village,  sisters  in  neighborly  love  and 
kindness,  shall  be  grinding  corn  in  one  mill,  each  for  her 


214  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

little  ones — two  men  of  the  same  house  of  worship,  dwell- 
ing together  as  brethren  in  unity,  and  making  their  daily 
labor  good  and  pleasant  by  sharing  it  together,  shall  be 
working  in  one  field; — and  "  one  shall  be  taken,"  "caught 
up  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air,"  and  "  the  other  shall  be 
left."  Oh,  then  will  be  the  cry  of  those  who  are  left  bitter 
and  all-consuming:  "Rocks  and  mountains,  fall  on  us!" 
Our  punishment  is  just,  but  our  disappointment  is  more 
than  we  can  endure;  hide  us,  for  the  glory  of  the  Lamb  is 
but  burning  wrath  to  our  guilty  souls.  Oh,  the  bitter  lash- 
ings of  these  awakened  consciences  so  often  stifled  and 
crushed;  who  shall  be  able  to  stand?  Oh,  my  soul,  believe 
it  not!  But  oh,  be  not  deceived.  The  soul  that  spurned, 
rejected,  and  despised  the  bloody  sweat  of  the  Lamb  of 
God  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  upon  that  eventful  night 
when  he  cried:  "  If  it  be  possible  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me;"  or  sneered  at  the  sinless  One,  as  from  the  cross  he 
cried:  "Eli,  eli,  lama  sabacthani,"  will  not  be  able  to  stand 
before  the  glories  of  our  risen  Lord — the  King  of  glory. 

But  I  forbear  carrying  this  thought  any  farther.  God 
be  merciful  to  us  sinners!  If  these  thoughts  engaged  our 
minds  as  they  should,  and  as  they  will,  I  cannot  see  how 
men  who  have  taken  the  vows  of  the  church  upon  them 
can  rest  at  ease. 

In  the  light  of  these  sublime  and  awful  solemn  truths, 
prepare  my  heart  and  head,  O  Lamb  of  God,  to  sound  the  gos- 
pel trumpet  until  the  thoughtless  shall  pause  to  reflect  on 
the  danger  of  resting  one  moment  short  of  salvation  in 
Christ.  Oh,  it  is  sad  to  see  this  beautiful  city  given  up  to 
sins  of  the  grossest  kind,  while  those  who  hold  the  Lamp 
of  Life  are  satisfied  to  read  moral  essays  to  fashionable 
dinners.  One  blessed  thought — we  are  yet  on  mercy's  side 
of  the  grave.  The  day  of  his  wrath  is  yet  in  tlie  future; 
the  invitations  of  the  gospel  are  yet  ours  to  accept.  O 
Lamb  of  God,  help  us,  help  these  poor  hearts  of  ours  to 
come  to  thee,  and  that  early,  while  it  is  yet  to-day  I 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  215 

But  my  sou!  was  set  on  fire  with  indignation  and  pity 
to  see  God's  holy  Sabbath  proftmed  all  along  the  shore, 
either  way  from  the  city,  by  multitudes  of  men  and  women 
either  drinking  and  dancing  on  the  smooth  and  shady 
grounds  spreading  back  from  the  water,  or  gamblino^,  or 
swimming  by  hundreds  in  the  surf.  But  why  do  I  write 
these  things  against  ISTew  Haven,  the  city  of  elms,  of  schools, 
of  intelligence,  of  enterprise?  Because  I  saw  them  with 
my  own  eyes,  and  they  made  a  lasting  impression  upon  my 
mind,  and  because  I  had  heard  so  much  about  the  morality 
of  this  city. 

Though  I  spent  six  weeks  liere,  yet  they  seemed  very 
short,  for  I  never  tired  in  looking  upon  the  enchantments 
of  the  ocean,  the  coming  and  going  of  vessels  and  great 
steamers,  and  the  usual  bustle  of  city  life.  In  returnino- 
to  Mid,dletown,  I  went  by  way  of  the  shore  road  as  far  as 
Lime,  and  from  thence  by  steamer  up  the  Connecticut. 
And  it  was  a  memorable  ride  along  the  base  of  those  JSTew 
England  hills,  to  look  upon  the  villages  and  antiquated 
farm-houses.  At  Lime  I  had  to  wait  some  six  hours  for 
the  steamer,  all  of  which  time  I  spent  in  running  from  one 
object  to  another.  I  thought  I  could  catch  another  glimpse 
of  the  sea  by  going  down  through  the  fields  a  short  dis- 
tance. So  off  I  started,  and  went  some  three  miles,  but  to 
no  purpose;  however,  I  had  an  opportunity  to  see  some 
real  old-fashioned  farm-houses,  and  the  sight  of  these  re- 
paid me  for  my  sea  chase. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  Connecticut,  and  almost  opposite 
Lime,  is  Saybrook,  one  of  the  oldest  towns  in  l^ew  Eng- 
land, and  the  former  home  of  Yale  College.  There  is 
a  charm  about  these  Connecticut  towns  I 'fail  to  describe. 
They  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated,  and  Saybrook  pecul- 
iarly impressed  me  with  this  feature  of  Kew  England.  In 
short  the  whole  length  of  the  Connecticut,  from  Spring- 
field (as  far  up  the  river  as  I  have  ever  been)  to  its  mouth 


216  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

is  lined  with  hamlets,  towns  and  cities,  both  beautiful  and 
picturesque. 

Upon  arriving  at  home,  I  was  well  refreshed  to  enter  up- 
on a  vigorous  year  of  hard  study.  All  of  which  I  was  glad 
to  have  the  privilege  of  doing.  This  was  now  my  fourth 
year  in  Middletown,  and  I  was  real  l^appy  in  the  pursuit 
of  my  study  and  the  progress  I  was  making,  and,  humanly 
speaking,  I  was  expected  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  graduat- 
ing from  the  University. 

But,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  was  cut  short  in  my  ex- 
pectations— it  was  not  for  me  to  enjoy  such  privileges  and 
blessings  as  I  was  then  in  the  possession  of  long. 

AVhile  I  heard  and  saw  many  things  I  both  loved  and 
admired,  I  also  observed  many  which  were  not  so  pleasing. 
I  shall  not  speak  of  them  further  than  to  say  that  sin  has 
also  marred  these  beautiful  vallevs  and  errand  old  hills. 

I/O  , 

I  remember  upon  one  occasion  of  being  invited  to  go 
down  the  river  on  an  excursion.  The  day  was  lovely  in  every 
respect,  and  many  gallant  men  and  beautiful  women  joined 
in  the  festivities.  The  ride  was  all  we  could  expect;  indeed 
the  owner  of  the  handsome  steamer,  acquitted  himself  like 
a  gentleman.  But  on  the  return  they  must  stop  at  Ilad- 
dam  three  hours  to  shake  the  "light  fantastic  toe"  over  the 
carpet  of  green. 

I  retired,  and  took  a  three  hours'  ramble  over  the  wood- 
land hills  and  verdant  valleys.  Oh,  how  charming!  How 
true  it  is  that  we  walk  here,  as  it  were,  in  the  vestibule  of 
life;  at  times,  from  the  great  cathedral  above  us,"  we  can 
hear  the  organ  and  the  chanting  of  the  choir.  And  not 
only  was  the  grove  made  vocal  by  nature's  appointed 
minstrels,  but  the  earth  beneath  my  feet  was  strewn  with 
'flowers.  If  there  are  any  wayside  angels  other  than  those 
appointed  as  guardians  over  us,  then  these  flowers  are 
angels  of  refinement  and  good  thoughts.  Happy  is  the 
person  who  is  early  taught  a  love  of  flowers.     Earth  may 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  217 

grow  weaiy  to  him,  life  may  lose  its  charms,  but  he  will 
ever  derive  consolation  from  the  thousand  scources  of 
nature.  He  may  go  forth,  dispairing  and  disgusted  with 
the  deceptive  charms  of  the  world;  but  when  he  is  alone 
in  the  mossy  woods,  with  the  flowers  all  around,  and  their 
odor  rising  in  the  hushed  air,  he  finds  that  there  is  beauty 
still  left  in  existence.  His  spirit  roves  from  the  beauti- 
ful flowers  to  their  maker  and  preserver,  and  to  the  blessed 
coming  time  when  he  shall  wander  as  a  white-robed  angel, 
where  the  roses  of  Paradise  are  blossoming  along  the  River 
of  Life. 

The  time  having  expired,  I  hastened  back  to  the  boat,  and 
arrived  home  about  sundown. 

But  how  little  do  many  people  realize  the  true  grandeur 
of  life.  It  seems  to  be  generally  accepted  that  to  gratify 
the  social  and  lower  passions  is  the  crowning  glory  of 
earthly  existence.  There  is  a  shrinking  from  anything 
that  has  the  appearance  of  suffering,  forgetting  that,  as 
the  flower  when  trod  upon  gives  forth  its  sweetest  per- 
fume, so  does  human  life  when  softened  and  refined  by 
deep  sorrows.  Why,  just  look  at  the  Saviour.  Was  there 
ever  such  gentleness  and  sympathy?  And  was  he  not  thus 
because  he  was  a  "  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with 
grief"?  Behold  the  crowning  glory  of  this  virtue  in  Geth- 
semane. 

It  is  night.  The  new  moon  casts  her  faint  light  through 
the  branches  of  the  well-grown  olive  trees.  'Not  a  breath 
of  air  is  felt;  not  a  sound  is  lieard  save  the  flapping  of  the 
wings  of  some  feathered  tenant  of  the  grove,  being  dis- 
turl)ed  in  its  night  retreat  by  some  evil-disposed  rival. 
Yonder  is  the  brogk  of  Cedron,  winding  its  way  through 
the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  Its  rippling  waters  leap  from 
shoal  to  shoal,  murmuring  its  song  of  praise  to  Him  who 
does  all  things  well.  Overhead  the  starry  heavens  are 
spread  out,  lending  grandeur  to  the  scene.      Opposite  is 


218  ■  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the  city  of  Jerusalem,  and  out  of  one  of  the  gates  we  see 
twelve  men  issue,  slowly  treading  their  way  across  the 
brook.  How  wearily  they  walk.  Silently,  as  though  some 
great  sorrow  pressed  their  hearts,  they  enter  one  of  the 
gates  of  the  garden.  Proceeding  some  distance,  they  sit 
down  under  one  of  the  trees.  Eleven  of  the  company  are 
heavy  with  sleep,  but  the  other  seems  to  be  burdened  with 
a  load  that  is  ready  to  crush  him  to  the  ground.  He  re- 
quests three  of  the  group  to  come  with  him  some  distance 
from  the  rest.  Having  arrived  at  a  suitable  place,  he  un- 
burdens his  heart  to  them:  "My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrow- 
ful; tarry  ye  here,  and  watch  with  me;"  and  admonish- 
ing them  to  prayer,  he  tears  himself  from  them.  See  how 
he  reels  as  he  advances,  and  falling  on  his  knees — no,  on 
his  face — we  hear  the  plaintive  cry  floating  on  the  mid- 
night air:  "O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible  let  this  cup 
pass  from  me;  nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou 
wilt."  See  how  he  agonizes;  look!  what  is  it  that  trickles 
down  his  careworn  brow  and  runs  down  his  weather-beaten 
cheeks?  Is  it  drops  of  sweat?  JS'o,  no,  it  is  blood  that 
courses  down  his  sacred  face.  And  who  is  this  sufferer? 
And  whence  this  agony?  But  stop;  what  is  that  shining 
form  gliding  through  the  trees  toward  him  ?  It  is  an  angel, 
sent  from  the  shining  courts  above  to  strengthen  him.  To 
strengthen  whom?  Your  Saviour  and  my  Saviour.  And 
what  for,  do  you  ask?  To  bear  your  sins  and  my  sins;  yea 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  He  was  about  to  drink  the 
very  dregs  of  our  cup  of  woe.  The  agony  of  pain  deserved 
by  me  and  you,  dear  reader,  caused  this  sweat  of  blood  to 
ouze  from*  his  undefiled  body.  Our  woe  was  breaking 
over  his  guiltless  head.  He  bore  our  sorrows  and  our 
griefs,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  he^iled.  The  punishment 
due  us  was  meted  out  to  him. 

But  why   was  it  that  our  Saviour,  th<^  God-man,  thus 
suffered?     Was  it  to  gain  power?     Xo,  for  he  is  the  King 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  219 

of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords.  "Was  it  to  gain  wealth?  J^o, 
for  by  him  "  all  things  were  made."  Was  he  obliged  to 
do  it?  No,  for  he  laid  down  his  life  of  his  own  free  will 
and  accord.  Was  it  because  we  were  his  friends?  No, 
for  we  rebelled  against  him.  Was  it  to  gain  fame  and 
Happiness?  No,  for  he  is  "  Lord  over  all,  blessed  forever." 
What  was  it  then?  It  w^as  pure  disinterested  love,  love 
and  compassion  for  his  enemies,  that  actuated  him  to  un- 
dergo this  trying  ordeal.     Well  may  the  poet  exclaim: 

"  Oh,  for  such  love  let  rocks  and  hills 
Their  lasting  silence  break." 

Oh!  how  our  hearts  should  melt  in  humble  gratitude  to 
our  adorable  Redeemer  for  such  unparalleled  love  and  af- 
fection. How  w^e  should  humble  ourselves  in  dust  and 
ashes  before  him,  and  how  willingly  we  should  unreserved- 
ly consecrate  all  we  have  to  him  and  his  service,  for  — 

"Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 
Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

But  do  we  display  any  gratitude  when  we  spend  our 
precious  time  in  idle  frivolity  and  senseless  levity?  And 
is  it  at  such  times  heavenly  messengers  come  to  us,  and 
pour  out  upon  us  benedictions?  No.  They  come  only 
when  we  are  sober  and  meditative.  They  came  to  Jacob 
while  pillowing  his  w^eary  head  upon  a  stone  in  a  strange 
land,  to  Joseph  while  in  the  Egyptian  prison,  to  Moses 
while  in  the  desert  near  Sinai,  to  Gideon  while  in  the  field, 
to  Elijah  while  by  the  brook's  side,  and  to  the  Saviour  while 
in  the  garden  of  suffering.  Is  there  not  a  tesson  in  all 
this  for  us  to  imitate  and  follow?  The  men  and  w^omen 
w^ho  have  drank  deep  at  the  wells  of  sorrow  are  the  ones 
who  can  enter  into  human  sympathy  and  move  us  to  no- 
ble actions.  And  these,  too,  are  the  silent  workers.  They 
seek  not,  and  therefore  expect  not,  the  adulations  of  men. 


'^''20  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

lluinan  butchers,  and  human  monsters  such  as  Xerxes, 
Alexander,  Xapoleon,  Frederick  the  Great,  whose  garments 
were  rolled  in  blood,  at  whose  tread  the  nations  trembled, 
and  who  left  rivers  of  blood  to  mark  the  pathway  of  their 
career  U^  worldly  fame,  expected  and  demanded  honors  at 
the  hand  of  their  fellows.  But  these  men  and  their  imita- 
tors, curse  humanity  rather  than  bless  it.  It  is  not  the 
great  and  mighty  forces  (as  men  count  greatness)  that  are 
the  most  productive  of  good.  The  quiet  ministrations  and 
acts  are  the  ones  most  likely  to  bless  and  benefit.  It  is 
the  bubbling  stream  that  flows  gently,  the  little  rivulet 
which  runs  along  day  and  night  by  the  farmhouse,  that  is 
useful,  rather  than  the  swollen  flood  or  warring  cataract. 
IS'iagara  excites  our  wonder,  and  we  stand  amazed  at  the 
power  and  greatness  of  God  there,  as  he  pours  it  from  the 
hollow  of  his  hand.  But  one  Niagara  is  enough  for  the 
continent  or  the  world,  while  the  same  world  requires 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  silver  fountains  and 
gentle  flowing  rivulets  that  water  every  farm  and  meadow, 
and  every  garden,  and  shall  flow  every  day  and  night,  with 
their  gentle,  quiet  beauty.  So  with  the  acts  of  our  lives. 
It  is  not  by  great  deeds  good  is  to  be  done,  but  by  the 
daily  and  quiet  virtues  of  life.  Christian  temper,  and  meek 
submission  to  God's  appointing.  All  our  prayers  and  all 
our  desires  should  be  prefaced:  *'  Not  my  will,  but  thy 
will  be  done." 

But  to  return.  At  the  end  of  another  school  year,  I 
thought  I  would  go  to  Albany,  N.  Y.,  to  spend  my  vaca- 
tion. I  could  have  found  work  at  Hartford,  New  Haven, 
or  Springfield,  but,  as  I  was  not  really  obliged  to  work,  but 
doing  so  from  a  conscientious  motive  of  helping  myself  all 
I  could,  and  at  the  same  time  wishing  to  see  as  much  of 
tlie  world  as  I  could,  I  resolved  to  visit  Albany  and  work 
during  the  vacation.  Accordingly  I  laid  my  plans  to  take 
the  steamer  for  New  York  City,  and  from  thence,  another 
boat  \\\)  the  IRuUon,  thus  giving  me  a  go(xl  opportunity 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  221 

to  see  many  things  at  about  the  same  expense  as  to  go  in 
the  cars.  Being  all  night  on  the  water,  we  arrived  at  Kew 
York  about  4  o'clock.  But  I  was  up  at  early  dawn  and  on 
deck  to  drink  in  every  object  of  interest,  to  see,  if  possible, 
if  I  could  recognize  the  places  as  I  saw  them  from  the 
deck  of  the  vessel  when  first  I  landed  on  these  shores. 
But  found  I  could  not.  Doubtless  such  great  changes  had 
taken  place  that  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  trace  the 
objects. 

I  had  no  sooner  landed  than  I  took  the  street  cars  and 
went  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other,  and  where 
there  were  no  cars,  I  footed  it.  I  also  went  over  to  Brook- 
lyn, and  traveled  by  street  car  and  on  foot  until  I  was  very 
tired.  Already  I  had  spent  about  eleven  hours  in  looking 
upon  the  magnificence  of  ISTew  York  and  Brooklyn,  It 
would  take  too  much  space  to  give  the  readers  a  descrip- 
tion of  these  great  cities,  besides,  they  are  well  known  to 
most  of  people,  but  I  w^U  relate  an  incident  or  two  and 
pass. 

What  I  had  experienced  in  l^ew  Haven,  I  here  saw  car- 
ried out  with  greater  artistic  skill.  I  never  visit  a  city 
but  I  try  to  see  and  learn  all  I  can,  and  I  anticipated  a  rich 
treat  the  following  day.  I  was  np  with  the  sun's  first  rays. 
A  clear  Sabbath  morn  touched  spire  and  dome  with  its 
kindling  benizen.  Clear  and  distinct,  yet  soft  and  hallow- 
ing as  the  music  of  the  ocean  murmur,  chimed  out  the 
bells  of  Trinity.  A  wondrous  mingling  of  the  solemn  and 
the 'triumphant  marched  out  on  the  hushed  air,  and  the 
waves  of  the  grand  old-time  melody  poured  into  the  soul 
with  its  flood  of  other-day  memories.  Up  with  every 
trembling  note  the  spirit  mounted  until  it  heard  them 
caught  up  in  an  exultant  anthem  in  the  beyond. 

I  turned  into  the  throng  which  swept  along  Broadway. 
I  noticed  nothing  of  the  externals  of  the  living  tide,  but 
thought  of  him  who  came  from  heaven  to  labor,  sufi:er  and 


222  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

die,  that  man  should  sing  this  anthem  of  triumph   over 
deatli  and  the  grave. 

As  I  lingered  by  the  church  door,  a  poorly-clad  woman 
crept  hesitatingly  near,  and  anxiously  peered  into  the 
dimly-lighted  space.  A  sister  in  costly  robes  swept  scorn- 
fully by  her,  and  the  poor  one  shrunk  back.  And  such  a 
look  of  agony;  so  piteous — so  terribly  eloquent  of  despair- 
— as  rested  upon  that  upturned  face.  "Pass  in,"  I  said, 
"they'll  give  you  a  place."  She  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  stole  over  the  threshold,  but  was  met  three  steps  from 
the  door,  and  almost  rudely  told  that  there  was  "no  room 
here  for  such  as  you!"  Just  the  very  experience  I  had  at 
New  Haven,  only  in  a  milder  form.  The  frail  form  shrunk 
back,  reeled  a  moment,  as  if  under  a  blow,  and  passed  out. 

The  chant  of  the  organ  within,  the  soft,  rich  light  in  the 
lofty  room,  and  the  costly  surroundings,  all  at  once  seemed 
a  mockery;  the  very  spire  in  its  baptism  of  gold,  a  pier- 
cing lie.  Sorrowfully,  and  with  cheek  hotly -burning,  I,  too, 
turned  back  and  followed  the  retreatinsr  iiofure.  She  turn- 
ed  into  a  locality  where,  on  that  beautiful  Sabbath  day,  the 
leprous  blight  of  vice  and  crime  reeked  like  a  consuming 
plague.  "Within  sight  of  that  lofty  spire  and  within  sound 
of  those  thrilling  chimes,  was  a  seething,  burning  hell  on 
earth!  Everywhere  rang  out  the  freezing  oath,  the  ob- 
scene jest,  and  the  boisterous,  mocking  laughter.  The 
curse  of  rum,  and  of  its  twin  ministers — vice  and  crime — 
was  written  on  all  things;  stared  from  signs  on  dingy, 
crumbling  tenements;  floated  out  from  the  broken  Ivin- 
dows;  burst  up  from  the  stenching  cellar-ways;  rang  sharp- 
ly from  filthy  and  ragged  grou])S  gathered  in  the  sunshine. 
What  a  sepulchre  of  manhood  and  womanhood;  of  virtue 
and  truth;  of  hope  of  earth  and  heaven.  The  sights  and 
sounds  smote  the  soul  with  sickness.  1  looked  up  to  the 
sun,  and  wondered  how  it  could  beam  so  sweetly  on  such  a 
scene.     Over  the  grim  walls  I  listened  to  the  chiming  of 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  223 

a  hundred  bells,  and  asked  whether  it  was  true  that  Christ 
ever  cared  for  or  redeemed  such  as  these?  Whether  on 
earth  there  was  one  angel  of  kindness  and  faith  to  watch 
over  them?  -Whether  Christ  could  raise  such  to  the  beauty 
of  transfigured  glorj?  Whether  those  at  their  worship 
yonder  ever  thought  of  heathen  but  a  stone's  throw  from 
their  temple? 

Heavy-hearted  I  turned  into  an  alley,  and  up  a  filthy 
stairway,  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  poverty.  What  a 
dwelling-place  for  human  beings!  Up  to  the  opening  in 
the  roof,  and  hot  with  the  miasma  of  pestilence,  a  current 
of  air  met  me  at  the  landing.  Floors,  walls,  and  passages 
were  repulsive  with  the  accumulated  dirt  of  years.  With 
compressed  lip  I  peered  about,  and  finally  knocked  at  one 
of  the  doors.  Slowly  and  suspiciously  the  door  was  opened 
and  I  passed  in. 

Were  this  not  from  real  life,  passing  before  my  own  eyes, 
not  one  of  my  readers  would  believe  that  a  Christian  land 
had  one  such  place;  our  brotherhood  such  degradation. 
There  were,  in  that  small  room,  twelve  persons  of  different 
ages,  standing,  sitting  and  lying.  In  single  garments  filthy 
and  tattered,  grown-up  girls  were  crowded  into  one  cor- 
ner. Children,  half-naked,  poured  out  their  profane  wel- 
come. Gray-haired  women  stared  at  me  with  a  mingling 
of  scorn  and  surprise.  Swarthy  men,  with  matted  locks, 
glowered  as  if  in  anger.  Want,  vice,  and  crime  here  found 
a  lair. 

Ah,  my  reader,  here  was  the  desolation  of  rum.  Oh, 
had  I  the  gift  of  expression,  I  would  write  so  plainly 
against  this  enemy  of  all  good  until  ev^ery  eye  could  see  it 
as  I  now  see  it  in  this  room — a  very  hell  on  earth.  From 
the  gilded  gin  palace  on  the  corner  of  yonder  street,  through 
all  the  walks  of  life,  its  march  of  ruin  is  onward.  It  in- 
vades the  family  and  social  circle,  and  spreads  woe  and 
sorrow  around.     It  cuts  down  youth  in  its  vigor,  man- 


224  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

hood  in  its  strength,  old  age  in  its  weakness.  It  breaks 
the  father's  heart,  bereaves  the  doting  mother,  extinguishes 
natural  affection,  erases  conjugal  love,  blots  out  filial  at- 
tachments, blights  parental  hope,  and  ])ringsdown  moaning 
age  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  It  produces  weakness,  not 
strength;  sickness,not  health;  death, not  life.  Itmakes  wives 
widows,children  orphans,fathers  fiends,  and  all  these  beggars 
and  paupers.  It  hails  fever,  feeds  rheumatics,  nurses  gout, 
welcomes  epidemics,  invites  cholera,  imparts  pestilence, 
and  embraces  consumption.  It  covers  your  land  with  idle- 
ness and  poverty,  disease  and  crime;  it  fills  your  jails, 
supplies  your  almshouses,  and  demands  your  asylums.  It 
engenders  controversies,  fosters  quarrels,  cherishes  riots, 
condemns  law,  spurns  peace,  loves  mobs,  crowds  your  peni- 
tentiaries, and  furnishes  victims  for  the  scaffold.  It  is  the 
life-blood  of  the  gambler,  the  aliment  of  the  counterfeiter, 
prop  for  the  highwayman,  support  for  the  midnight  incen- 
diary. It  countenances  the  liar,  respects  the  thief,  esteems 
the  blasphemer,  violates  obligation,  reverences  fraud,  hon- 
ors infamy,  defames  benevolence,  hates  love,  scorns  virtue, 
and  slanders  innocence.  It  induces  the  father  to  butcher 
his  tender  offspring,  the  husband  to  murder  his  wife,  and 
helps  the  child  to  grind  his  paricidal  axe.  It  burns  man, 
consumes  woman,  detests  life,  curses  God,  despises  heaven. 
It  subborns  witnesses,  nurses  perjury,  defiles  the  jury-box, 
and  stains  the  judicial  ermine;  it  bribes  votes,  disqualifies 
voters,  pollutes  your  institutions,  and  endangers  your  gov- 
ernment; it  degrades  citizens,  debases  legislators,  dishonors 
statesmen,  disarms  patriots.  It  brings  shame,  not  lionor; 
disgrace,  not  hope;  misery,  not  happiness;  terror,  not 
safety;  and  as  if  with  the  malevolence  of  a  fiend,  it  calmly 
surveys  its  frightful  desolations,  and  insatiate  with  havoc, 
it  poisons  felicity,  ruins  morals,  blights  confidence,  slays 
reputation,  wipes  out  national  honor,  curses  the  world, 
and  laughs  at  its  ruins.     Would  to  God  this  were  all!     It 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  225 

does  more.  Must  we  write  it?  It  damns  the  soul!  Aw- 
ful thought.  Terrible  doom.  Yet  Christians  sport  with 
this  Satanic  agency  as  a  harmless  thing.  As  I  think  these 
things  my  very  soul  cries  out  for  help  and  safety  to  the 
victims  of  this  monster. 

Oh,  what  a  sad  sight.  In  the  corner  and  upon  rags,  was 
a  girl  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption,  the  still  beautiful 
wreck  of  early  womanhood,  smitten  in  its  downward  way, 
and  fast  wasting  unto  death.  The  strangely  full  and  lus- 
trous eye  heralded  the  swiftly-coming  change;  the  hectic 
burned  brightly  upon  the  sunken  cheek.  The  hair,  fair  as 
if  touched  with  summer  gold,  lay  out  upon  the  rags,  and 
the  thin,  transparent  hands  lay  out  on  either  side.  The 
neck  and  bosom  were  bared,  as  if  to  win  a  touch  of  air 
upon  the  burning  flesh.  The  bold,  sneering  look  of  the 
leper  had  passed  away,  and  the  face  was  so  gently,  so  touch- 
ingly  sad  that  I  wept  over  the  wreck  of  this  once  lovely  and 
beautiful  person.  Some  laughed  rudely,  others  hummed 
snatches  of  song,  others  were  cursing  over  their  drink. 

The  girl  beckoned  to  me  as  I  stood  with  the  extended  hand 
in  mine.  For  a  long  time  she  looked  me  in  the  face,  the 
bosom  heaving  with  short,  sharp  gasps;  and  then  her  eyes 
slowly  filled,  the  tears  rippling  over  the  cheeks  and  dripping 
upon  the  rags. 

"Why  do  you  weep  in  this  place,  sir^<  When  mother 
died,  oh,  so  long  ago,  I  wept.  I  wanted  to  die  then.  Do 
you  think  I  shall  die  now?  I  hope  so,  for  I  am  so  tired. 
I  once  heard  that  there  was  one  Jesus,  who  could  make 
angels  out  of  such  as  I  am;  but  I  have  never  seen  him. 
Is  he  good  to  poor  folks  ?  Does  he  ever  come  to  such  places  ? 
A  man  once  told  me  that  this  Jesus  had  been  killed,  and 
that  I  should  be  lost.  If  He  is  living,  and  would  come 
here.  He  would  pity  me,  I  know  He  would,  and  take  me 
where  mother  is!  Is  that  heaven  for  poor  folks?  Are  you 
Christ?  Did  He  ever  weep?  If  He  had  come  and  wept 
15 


226  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

as  you  do,  I  know  I  should  have  been  good,  and  not  have 
been  in  such  a  place  as  this.  You — Mary — Mother — 
Jesus — " 

I  wept  in  the  presence  of  death.  Calmly,  as  the  sun 
would  set,  the  burden  of  a  weary  life  had  been  lifted,  the 
eyes  looking  out  as  if  upon  some  sweet  vision  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  a  smile  of  unearthly  sweetness  lingering  upon 
the  half-closed  lips.  Jesus  was  last  whispered  there  in 
life;  let  us  hope  that  Jesus  was  with  her  in  death.     Mary 

— the  woman  I  had  followed  from  the church — and  a 

stranger  had  held  the  weary  hands  as  the  erring  one  Avent 
out  into  the  dark  valley  of  the  limitless  beyond.  Had  she 
seen  a  mother — seen  Christ?  Had  that  weary  soul,  made 
as  wool  through  the  mercy  of  the  Redeemer,  arisen  from 
that  couch  of  rags  and  its  sin-stained  clay,  and,  with  min- 
istering and  waiting  angels,  entered  into  rest? 

The  words  of  the  dying  girl  were  a  terrible  revelation. 
An  orphan,  homeless,  friendless  and  without  education,  the 
currents  of  her  life  had  swept  her  out  like  a  waif  and  dash- 
ed her  upon  ruin.  What  fair  reader  of  the  Golden  Censer 
wishes  to  test  her  heroism  by  w^aging  such  a  battle  against 
such  odds? 

Motherless,  and  no  common,  or  Sabbath-school  instruc- 
tion ;  no  knowledge  of  God,  or  his  son !  Has  heathendom 
one  history  so  sad?  Here  was  heathenism  in  a  Christian 
land.  Perhaps  it  was  well  I  was  permitted  to  see  and  to 
experience  this  hour  in  this  great  city.  The  impressions, 
certainly,  are  deeper  upon  my  heart,  and  while  I  mingle 
my  tears  with  these  victims  of  sin — sinned  against  more 
tlian  sinning — I  can  but  hope  the  words  spoken  may 
spring  uj)  unto  eternal  life.  And  is  it  possible  that  one 
can  profess  to  be  crucified  to  the  world  and  not  be  touched 
by  others'  sorrow?  Can  one  believe  in  Christ,  remain  idle 
— faithless — while  thousands  of  such  are  all  about  us? 
Leave  the  costly  equipage,  now  and  then,  brother,  sister, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  227 

and  on  foot,  as  did  our  Saviour,  seek  souls  among  the  poor 
and  the  unfortunate.  There  is  a  po'wer  in  a  living,  practi- 
cal, vrorking  gospel ;  triumphs  awaiting  the  exercise  of  a 
Christ-like  faith — a  faith  of  works.  Among  the  erring, 
even,  may  be  found  those  who  may  be  made  heirs  of  glory. 
Such  do  not  attend  your  churches.  Go  to  them,  and  touch 
chords  which  shall  vibrate  by  the  throne  of  God. 

The  next  day  I  renewed  my  observations  of  IN'ew  York. 
About  noon,  being  well  tired,  I  sat  down  upon  the  steps  of 
the  city  hall,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  L.  H.  Wait,  de- 
scriptive of  what  I  had  seen  in  the  commercial  metropolis 
of  the  western  world.  After  this,  feeling  rested,  I  again 
set  out  to  look  in  upon  the  great  printing  offices.  I  visited 
several  large  daily  offices,  and  was  offered  a  situation  in 
one  of  them,  but  declined  to  accept,  for  I  feared  the  temp- 
tations and  evil  influences  of  this  city  might  be  too  great 
for  me,  hence  I  could  not  be  persuaded  to  accept.  I  have 
learned  that  one  way — and  a  most  effectual  way  it  is  too — 
to  resist  temptation,  is  to  keep  out  of  its  influence. 

The  day  being  far  spent,  and  being  fatigued,  I  set  out 
for  the  Hudson,  purposing  to  continue  my  journey  to  Al- 
bany. Walking  leisurely  and  rather  slowly  along,  a  young 
man  rushed  up  and  stuck  a  bill  in  my  face,  which  an- 
nounced the  sale  of  jewelry,  and  great  bargains  to  be  had. 
I  paused  to  read,  and  then  told  the  man  I  did  not  wish  to 
purchase  as  I  never  wore  such  things.  At  this  juncture 
another  came  up  apparently  very  eager  to  learn  the  con-, 
tents  of  the  bill  and  was  also  very  anxious  to  make  a  pur- 
chase, and  the  two  urged  me  to  go  with  them.  Still  I 
refused,  telling  them  I  had  no  desire  whatever  to  make 
such  a  purchase.  At  length  they  said,  if  I  did  not  wish 
to  purchase,  I  need  not  do  so,  but  they  would  esteem  it  a 
great  favor  to  have  me  go  with  them.  I  still  hesitated,  and 
only  consented  to  go  as  a  mere  matter  of  accommodation 
which  they  assured  me  would  be  greatly  appreciated  by 


228  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

them.  Yet  I  did  not  feel  that  things  were  quite  right. 
Another  thing  that  niad'e  me  regret  my  having  consented  to 
go  was,  as  soon  as  we  had  entered  the  room,  a  door  attend- 
ant locked  it  after  us.  As  for  the  jewelry,  I  would  not  have 
given  one  dollar  for  all  there  was  displayed.  My  two  com- 
panions purchased  freely  and  one  dollar  drew  valuable 
watches — all  the  sales  were  in  purchasing  a  ticket,  and  the 
ticket  drew  whatever  the  number  upon  it  corresponded 
with  in  the  show-case.  I  still  stood  and  looked  on,  and 
was  not  at  all  anxious  to  invest.  But  they  continued  to 
urge  me  to  "  try  my  luck,"  and  I  as  stoutly  refused,  re- 
minding them  of  their  promise. 

But  they  began  to  grow  more  vehement,  and  almost 
compelled  me  to  make  a  purchase.  Finally  they  asked  me 
if  I  had  any  mone}^  I  told  thepi  I  had  enough  to  pay  my 
expenses  to  Albany.  Then  they  wanted  me  to  show  it  to 
them.  This  I  refused  to  do,  at  the  same  time  feeling  anx- 
ious for  my  safety.  Tliey  then  grew  angry  and  com- 
menced to  swear  at  me.  Tliis  made  me  feel  still  more 
uncomfortable  and  I  began  to  realize  that  I  must  be  in 
some  of  the  "  sharpers'  "  trap. 

Finally  I  told  them  if  they  would  let  me  out  I  would 
make  a  purchase.  To  this  they  agreed.  I  paid  one  dollar, 
and  drew  a  blank.  In  this  I  was  not  disappointed,  for  I 
considered  myself  lucky  if  I  could  regain  my  freedom  at 
the  expense  of  one  dollar.  They  urged  me  several  times 
to  try  my  luck  again  as  I  would  have  better  success.  But 
I  kept  reminding  them  of  their  promise,  constantly  telling 
them  I  had  no  use  for  jewelry. 

At  length  they  unbarred  the  door  and  let  me  out.  When 
I  had  reached  the  street  I  took  a  long  breath,  and  resolved 
not  to  be  thus  cauglit  again. 

I  continued  my  way  to  the  boat,  purchased  a  ticket,  and 
purposed  sitting  down  and  taking  a  rest.  Having  gone 
aboard,  and,  it  being  quite  warm,  I  took  a  drink  of  water. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  229 

While  at  the  tank,  a  well-dressed,  fine-looking  and  gentle- 
manly behaved  man  waited  his  turn  after  me  to  take  a 
drink.  While  I  was  drinking  he  asked  me  where  I  was 
going.  I  told  him.  He  wanted  to  know  if  I  lived  at 
Albany.  I  replied  that  I  did  not.  Upon  this  I  passed 
along  to  a  sofa  and  sat  down. 

Scarcely  had  I  seated  myself  than  the  man  at  the  water 
tank  took  a  seat  by  my  side,  and  continued  his  conversa- 
tion. He  was  cleanly  dressed,  had  a  duster,  and  to  all 
appearance  looked  like  a  man  of  business.  He  said  he 
was  a  merchant  in  Albany,  liad  been  to  the  city  and  made 
a  purchase  of  goods,  and  there  was  only  an  hour  left  before 
the  boat  started,  and  he  had  to  see  about  the  shipping  of 
his  goods,  and  wanted  to  know  if  I  would  do  him  so  great 
a  favor  as  to  go  up  town  with  him,  and  accompany  his 
wife  and  sister  to  the  boat  while  he  attended  to  his  o^oods, 
as  he  had  not  time  to  do  both,  and  he  feared  his  wife  and 
sister  could  not  find  their  way  to  the  boat  alone.  The  re- 
quest, uttered  in  all  sincerity,  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  reason- 
able one,  and,  tired  as  I  was,  I  told  him  I  would  go  with 
him  and  do  as  he  had  requested. 

He  took  me  through  one  street  and  another,  occupying 
my  attention  by  prying  into  my  history  and  asking  very 
personal  questions.  I  felt  somewhat  distressed,  yet  polite- 
ness to  him  forbade  my  doing  otherwise  than  to  answer 
them. 

We  had  traveled  some  two  miles,  and  I  began  to  grow 
anxious  about  getting  back  to  the  boat  in  time,  and  had 
frequently  asked  him  how  much  farther  it  was,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  breaking  away  from  him  and  returning,  when 
a  man,  springing  out  from  some  unperceived  nook,  in 
an  angry  tone  demanded  pay  for  a  bill  of  goods  shipped, 
which  he  \dolently  shook  in  the  face  of  my  companion.  It 
was  for  the  amount  of  §600.  The  merchant  pulled  out  his 
pocket-book  as  if  he  was  willing  and  ready  to  pay.     But 


230  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

here  came  the  "tug  of  war."  He  liad  a  great  roll  of  bills, 
but  all  ranging  from  $500  to  $2,000.  He  could  not  make 
change  so  as  to  paj  the  $G00.  In  his  perplexity  he  turned 
to  me  and  asked  me  if  I  had  any  money.  I  replied  that  I 
had.  "How  much  have  you?'-  I  said,  about  $50.  He  still 
seemed  perplexed,  and  took  out  another  pocket-book,  and, 
behold!  he  found  $50  in  small  bills,  Kow  if  I  would  lend 
him  my  money  he  could  make  change.  The  man  who  pre- 
sented the  bill  kept  urging  him  to  hurry  up  as  his  time 
was  valuable.  The  merchant  asked  me  if  I  would  lend 
him  my  $50  until  he  reached  the  boat,  when  he  would  re- 
pay me.  I  hesitated.  I  did  not  feel  quite  right  in  the 
matter.  He,  seeing  my  hesitancy,  offered  me  a  $500  bill 
for  security  uatil  he  reached  the  boat.  Still  I  hesitated. 
He  as  promptly  offered  me  a  $1,000  bill  if  I  would  only 
lend  him  $50,  so  that  he  could  pay  the  man.  I  had  never 
seen  government  bills  of  the  denominations  above  named, 
and  I  feared  there  might  be  another  "sharper's"  catch  in 
this,  so  I  declined. 

Upon  this  they  both  turned  upon  me  and  urged  me  to 
accommodate  them  in  a  matter  of  so  great  importance.  I 
put  my  hand  into  my  pocket,  and  had  hold  of  my  pocket 
book,  when  I  noticed  the  merchant  give  the  other  a  wink 
of  the  eye,  peculiar  and  similar  to  winks  exchanged  at  the 
jewelry  store  where  I  had  so  recently  invested  one  dollar. 
The  thought  flashed  into  my  mind  that  this  was  nothing 
but  a  confidence  game,  and,  without  saying  a  word,  I  turn- 
ed and  ran,  leaving  the  merchant  to  pay  his  own  bills,  and 
to  escort  his  wife  and  sister. 

In  both  instances  above  given  I  was  a  victim  to  the 
"confidence  craft."  It  is  worthy  of  remark  tliat  no  one 
molested  me  during  the  whole  day  until  near  four  o'clock, 
and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Hudson  steamers'  dock. 

I  barely  reached  the  boat  in  time,  though  I  used  great 
haste  in  returning.     Thus  ended  the  day  in  New  York      I 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  231 

was  pleased  with  what  I  had  seen,  and  could  not  help  but 
feel  that  Providence  had  protected  me  even  while  in  the 
hands  of  those  who  sought  to  overreach  me.  If  any  of  my 
readers  ever  visit  Xew  York,  I  hope  they  will  remember 
these  incidents  and  look  out  for  the  sharpers,  for  they  will 
always  come  in  disguise,  professing  the  opposite  of  their 
designs,  and,  doubtless  will  be  the  most  friendly  people 
you  will  meet — that  is,  they  appear  so  to  be. 

Upon  arriving  at  Albany,  I  learned  through  parties  from 
the  vicinity  of  my  father  that  his  family  was  broken  up, 
that  Jacob  had  gone  out  into  the  world  as  I  had  done  be- 
fore him,  that  Mary,  through  heartless  abuse,  suffering  and 
exposure,  was  in  an  asylum  at  Troy,  ]^.  Y.,  and  that  my 
father  had  gone  to  Philadelphia. 

All  this  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  sad.  Oh,  the  deso- 
lation of  rum!  Upon  hearing  this,  I  at  once  hastened  to 
see  Mar}' ,  when  I  for  the  first  time  learned  how  she  had 
been  so  misused,  since  the  death  of  my  mother,  by  my 
father  and  a  step-mother,  as  to  bring  on  derangement,  and 
in  this  condition  was  thrust  into  Marshall's  Infirmary,  where 
she  had  been  for  nearly  four  years  when  I  found  her.  She 
was  then  gradually  recovering,  and  her  physician  expressed 
thankfulness  that  I  had  come. 

I  at  once,  though  not  without  a  severe  struggle,  gave  up 
my  studies  to  provide  for  her.  I  felt  this  was  my  duty, 
and  conscience — the  monitor  of  my  life — approved  of  my 
conviction. 

I  first  thought  of  finding  a  home  for  her  until  I  had 
completed  my  education,  but  her  physician  thought  it 
would  not  answer  to  place  her  among  strangers.  So  I  gave 
up  all  my  long-cherished  anticipations,  and  took  her  out  of 
the  asylum  to  provide  her  a  home. 

It  would  seem  that  all  this  was  providential,  and  I  could 
hardly  realize  the  fearful  reality.  It  was  very  hard  to  give 
up  my  good  home  at  Mrs.  Hayes's  which  I  had  so  long 


232  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

enjoved,  and  the  flattering  prospects  of  reaping  the  reward 
of  my  toil  and  suHering  and  unflinching  determination 
to  orraduate  from  culleo:e,  nor  could  anvthingr  else  have 
turned  me  from  my  purpose.  But  this  appeal  was  direct, 
and  her  claims  on  me  for  protection  seemed  imperative. 
I  tried  to  find  my  two  brothers,  but  these  I  could  not  find. 
There  was  therefore  not  one  of  the  family  remaining  to 
whom  she  could  go.  "While  at  the  asylum  I  further  learned 
that  father  had  sold  his  mountain  home  in  East  Sand  Lake, 
and  had  started  a  liquor  saloon  in  Philadelphia. 

I  think  the  reader  who  has  followed  me  thus  far  in  this 
narrative  knows  pretty  well  where  I  stand  on  the  liquor 
question.  To  learn  that  my  father  had  finally  gone  into 
that  business  made  me  feel  very  bad.  That  soul-destroying 
occupation  has  ruined  millions.  The  marks  of  bloody 
hands  are  all  over  the  liquor-seller's  fortune.  His  business 
is  to  coin  the  diseased  and  depraved  appetite  of  men  into 
money.  There  is  no  single  moral  element  of  legitimate 
commerce  in  it.  AVhile  other  men  deal  in  that  which 
benefits  the  consumer,  he  trades  in  what  produces  nothing 
but  blight  and  ruin.  Whoever  consumes  his  goods  has 
less  of  moral  character,  of  social  standing,  of  productive 
power,  of  personal  happiness,  of  the  respect  of  men,  and 
the  favor  of  God.  Taken  into  a  family  they  destroy  peace, 
and  love,  and  hope. 

His  earnings  represent  that  which  should  be  food  for 
hungry  children  and  common  comforts  for  distressed  house- 
holds. His  calling  blesses  no  human  being  and  curses 
most  deeply  those  whose. money  he  receives.  As  he  is  suc- 
cessful the  sum  of  human  happiness  diminishes  in  the 
wurld.  His  business  is  at  war  with  all  public  and  ju'ivate 
interests.  It  is  the  fruitful  source  of  murder,  beggary 
and  disease.  His  business  place  is  the  scene  of  brawls, 
fighting  and  profanity.  Crime  of  all  kinds  increases  as  he 
prospers.     There  is  i>ot  a  home  in  the  land  but  would  be 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  !5i53 

happier  and  safer  if  liis  business  were  blotted  unt  of  exist- 
ence. He  stands  the  active  antagonist  to  the  chnrclies,  tlie 
schools,  the  laws,  the  homes,  the  hopes  of  the  whole  coni- 
mnnitj.  Mothers  pray  that  their  sons  may  be  saved  from 
his  clutches,  wives  that  their  husbands  may  not  come  near 
him.  The  bread  of  children  depends  upon  the  avoidance 
of  him.  The  public  is  more  secure  on  its  holidays  if  he  be 
compelled  to  lock  up  his  establishment.  The  more  fre- 
quently men  visit  his  place  the  less  likely  they  are  to  at- 
tend to  their  regular  calling.  He  sees  his  patrons  die  in 
the  madness  of  delirium  before  they  have  numbered  half 
their  days,  because  they  have  been  good  customers  of  his. 
^Vll  this  he  sees  and  knows,  and  yet  for  money  he  will  per- 
sist in  the  evil  work.  He  is  able,  as  is  every  other  busi- 
ness man,  to  trace  the  lines  of  his  traffic.  He  knows  who 
are  his  customers  and  where  his  profits  come  from.  He 
understands  perfectly  that  his  gains  represent  the  homes  of 
families  robbed  of  their  shelter,  bread  taken  from  their 
mouths,  and  shoes  from  the  feet  of  children.  That  they 
are  often  the  earnings  of  weary  and  worn  women  with  the 
needle  or  over  the  washtub.  That  they  represent  money 
besrcred  in  the  name  of  charitA^  bv  his  pitiable  victims  from 
door  to  door.  That  his  every  dollar  represents  unutterable 
aofonv  and  is  stained  with  human  blood.  And  vet  with  the 
coolest  calculation  he  accepts  the  responsibility  for  the 
money  it  brings.  By  this  cold,  fiendish  greed  for  gain  he 
is  led  on  in  this  traffic  of  infamy.  But  I  could  hardly  be- 
lieve that  my  father,  once  so  noble-hearted,  generous  and 
kind  had  come  to  this.  How  sad  I  To  sell  liquor,  what  a 
responsibility ! 

Here  I  lose  sight  of  my  father  altogether.  I  never  could 
obtain  his  address,  and,  at  this  writing,  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  is  dead  or  alive. 

As  I  look  over  the  strange  scattering  of  my  father's  fam- 
ily, I  have  often  reflected  what  a  wonderful  dis]:)lay  of  the 


234  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

work  of  rum  it  manifests.  There  are  five  of  us  living,  and 
three  of  us  do  not  know  where  the  other  two  are,  and  I 
suppose  father  does  not  know,  and,  possibly,  may  not  care, 
where  any  of  his  children  are.  If  rum  does  not  degrade 
natural  affections,  I  do  not  know  what  does.  The  superin- 
tendent of  the  Infirmary  also  told  me  that  father  came  after 
Mary  in  the  spring,  but,  remembering  what  she  had  passed 
through,  he  refused  to  give  her  up;  and  advised  me  to 
take  lier  beyond  his  reach. 

1  again  set  out  for  the  West,  and,  after  some  effort,  found 
employment  in  the  Racine  Advocate  office.  As  I  had  nothing 
to  commence  with  but  ready  hands  and  willing  heart,  every 
cent  of  my  wages  went  as  fast  as  I  earned  them  in  clothing 
her  up.  At  first  she  was  much  depressed,  but  our  home 
overlookinfr  the  lake  filled  with  manv  a  sail,  and  the  mellow 
sunlight  sparkling  upon  its  glassy  surface,  soon  diverted 
her  mind. 

As  she  had  never  been  to  school  a  day  in  her  life,  and 
fear  ins:  to  send  her  to  school  now  on  account  of  the  state 
of  her  mind,  I  tried  to  learn  her  the  alphabet,  which,  after 
a  great  effort,  I  succeeded  in  doing. 

She  told  me  that  after  mother's  death,  she  had  to  work 
out  of  doors.  In  the  winter  time  she  was  compelled  to 
drive  oxen  and  draw  wood,  wading  through  the  deep  snow 
all  day,  and  often  her  skirts  and  stockings  would  be  frozen 
around  her  ankles,  and  her  feet  and  hands  white  with  frost; 
in  the  summer  time  she  had  to  work  on  the  farm  in  the 
hot  sun;  that  she  did  not  get  half  enough  to  eat;  often  she 
was  so  whipped  that  she  could  not  raise  her  hands  to  her 
head  for  days,  shoulders  and  arms  being  laid  open  in 
gashes;  she  never  was  allowed  time  to  comb  her  hair  ex- 
cept Sundays;  often  sent  to  bed  without  any  tiling  to  eat; 
that  the  last  thing  she  remembers,  she  was  sent  to  her  step- 
mother's brother,  whose  wife  was  on  her  dying  bed.  It 
was  late  in  the  fall,  the  weather  cold.     There    were  five 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIOjSTS.  235 

children  in  the  iamilv,  and  she  had  to  do  all  the  work  of 
the  house.  IN^ights  she  had  to  watch  with  the  sick  woman 
until  twelve  o'clock;  was  forced  to  sew  while  doing  so,  and 
in  a  room  without  a  fire — as  the  man  was  too  stingy  to  al- 
low her  a  fire;  and  that  her  fingers  would  be  so  benumbed 
that  when  she  accidentally  pricked  them  in  sewing,  she 
did  not  feel  it,  nor  would  blood  flow. 

I  could  give  many  pages  of  which  the  above  is  only  to 
illustrate  the  general  fact,  that  all  the  children  were  treated 
heartlessly  at  home. 

Kind  reader,  it  was  this  poor  helpless  sister  I  befriended, 
and  left  my  books  to  provide  and  care  for,  and  in  so  doing, 
however  great  my  sacrifices,  I  have  always  felt  I  was  only 
doing  the  duty  of  a  brother. 


236  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


CIIAPTEK  XYIII. 

The  Conception  of  the  Golden  Censer — Ups  and  Downs 
IN  Starting  the  Paper — Among  the  People — Strange 

INCIDENTS. 

I  was  getting  along  comfortably,  when  in  the  dead  of 
winter  I  was  thrown  out  of  employment.  As  I  had  no 
means  to  stem  the  tide,  I  went  to  Milwaukee  to  look  for 
work;  from  there  to  LaCrosse,  stopping  at  the  intermediate 
towns  and  cities;  thence  to  Pochester  and  Owatonna,  in 
Minnesota.  From  there  down  to  McGregor  and  Prairie  du 
Chien,  and  thence  back  to  Pacine.  Meeting  with  no  suc- 
cess in  any  of  the  cities  along  this  route,  I  came  to  Pock- 
ford,  but  making  a  failure  here,  I  did  not  know  what  to  do 
next.  It  seemed  I  had  done  all  human  energy  could. 
Tired,  discouraged  and  sick  at  heart,  I  spent  sleepless 
nights  thinking  what  I  could  do.  Do  something  I  must, 
and  that  without  delay.  I  went  to  Freeport,  Lyons,  Clin- 
ton, Pock  Island,  and  Davenport,  but  to  no  purpose.  An- 
guish-riven, I  gave  up  in  despair,  when  I  conceived  the 
idea  of  combining  both  my  intellectual  attainments  and 
ray  trade  in  something  that  would  bring  me  relief,  and  the 
Golden  Censer  was  the  result. 

The  reader  will  notice  that  publishing  a  paper  never  en- 
tered my  mind  previous  to  this,  since  my  boyish  attempt 
spoken  of  in  a  previous  chapter.  I  was  studying  for  the 
ministry,  and  I  thought  I  could  do  nothing  else  but  work 
at  my  trade.  Neither  do  I  take  any  credit  for  the  concep- 
tion or  the  bringing  into  existence  of  the  Golden  Censer. 
The  whole  thing  was  unpremeditated,  and  I  was  only  led 


TERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  237 

>  the  act  bj  force  of  circumstances.  But  is  not  this  God's 
ay?  Had  it  not  been  for  the  failures  in  finding  work, 
id  the  desperations  of  mj  necessities,  the  Golden  Censer 
ould  to-day  be  unknown.  It  is  the  same  old  story  over 
id  over.  David,  the  stripling  shepherd  lad  from  the 
Dcks  with  his  sling  and  pebbles  meets  the  vaunting  enemy 
^  Israel;  the  humble  and  ignorant — as  the  world  counts 
isdom — disciples  tell  the  story  of  'the  cross  though  op- 
3sed  by  Jewish  priest  and  Koman  ruler;  God-fearing  and 
lan-daring  Luther  takes  down  the  long-neglected  Bible 
id  preaches  a  free  salvation  obtained  through  the  atone- 
lent  of  Christ;  Latimer  and  the  martyrs  declared  amid 
le  tortures  of  the  burning  fagots  that  the  light  which  they 
ad  kindled  should  never  go  out;  Bunyan  behind  his  prison 
ars  dreams  of  the  royal  road  cast  up  for  the  ransomed  to 
alk  in,  and  gives  to  the  world  the  Progress  of  the  Pilgrim ; 
t^esley  stands  on  the  grave  of  his  father  and  offers  a  par- 
oning  Saviour  to  a  perishing  world;  "Whitfield  dared  to 
reach  ^though  hell  arrayed  itself  against  him.  Time  would 
dl  us  to  tell  of  the  vast  army  of  revivalists,  ministers  and 
'orkers  in  our  country  who  poured  out  the  best  energies 
f  their  lives  to  save  souls.  And  all  these  were  pressed 
ito  their  service  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  and  were 
lodest  and  retiring.  But  the  world  always  looks  to  great 
nd  learned  men,  while  the  reverse  is  God's  appointing, 
ro  into  any  country  you  please,  visit  any  college  or  sem- 
lary  you  choose,  and  the  wealthy  young  men  are  not  the 
iaders  of  the  people  or  foremost  in  the  noblest  work  which 
an  engage  the  attention  of  men  and  absorb  their  energies, 
am  aware  there  are  honorable  excej)tions.  But,  as  a  rule, 
tie  most  eminent  divines,  the  most  distinguished  states- 
len,  the  wisest  rulers,  the  ablest  judges,  the  most  re- 
owned  philosophers,  the  most  successful  evangelists,  came 
rom  the  homes  of  poverty,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  were 
he  makers  of  their  own  manhood. 


238  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  know  of  an  eminent  college  president,  who,  in  his  col- 
lege days,  for  want  of  six  cents  to  pay  postage  on  a  letter, 
had  to  let  it  remain  in  the  postoffice  three  weeks;  of  an 
able  preacher  who,  for  the  want  of  means  while  a  student, 
studied  his  lessons  under  a  street  lamp;  of  a  statesman 
whose  wisdom  filled  the  land — one  whom  millions  have 
learned  to  bless — who  studied  his  borrowed  lawbooks  while 
walking  twenty  miles  over  a  March  road  in  the  central  part 
of  Illinois.  Indeed,  this  page  could  be  filled  with  inci- 
dents similar  to  the  above,  illustrative  of  the  fact  that  char- 
acter has  to  be  cut  out  with  hard  blows  and  severe  mental 
training,  and  only  the  few  are  willing  to  pay  the  price. 

But  God  knows  his  workmen.  He  prepares  them  while 
they  are  behind  the  plow,  in  the  forest  with  the  woodsman's 
axe,  in  the  office  as  chore  boys,  in  the  store  or  bank  or 
shop  as  errand  lads,  and  all  at  once  their  names  flash  over 
the  land  as  did  David's  when  he  had  defeated  the  enemy 
of  Israel. 

But  I  shrunk  from  my  task.  It  was  a  dark,  desperate 
hour  to  me.  I  had  my  sister  to  support  and  no  work  to 
be  obtained.  What  could  I  do?  Already  I  had  traveled 
over  five  hundred  miles — some  of  it  on  foot — to  find  work, 
and  came  to  Rockford,  with  the  hope  that  where  I  was  best 
known  they  would  pity  me  and  give  me  work.  But  in  the 
years  that  had  passed  since  I  left  it  great  changes  had  taken 
place.  Mr.  Daugherty  had  died,  the  Register  was  owned 
by  others  who  knew  me  not,  and  hence  I  received  no  en- 
couragement. 

Perhaps  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  relate  some  in- 
cidents in  my  travels.  They  were  many,  but  I  can  give 
only  a  few.  When  I  left  Eacine,  Feb.  8th,  1868,  it  was  a 
bitter  cold  day,  and  traveling  was  very  uncomfortable;  but 
I  endured  the  weather's  inclemency,  and  patiently  went 
from  place  to  place  asking  for  work.  At  Kew  Lisbon,  Wis., 
while  waiting  in  the  depot  for  the  train,  I  was  tired,  hun- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  239 

gry,  and  thirsty.  I  had  but  little  money,  and  hardly  felt 
warranted  to  go  to  a  hotel  for  a  meal.  As  there  was  no 
water  to  be  had  in  the  depot,  I  went  over  the  way,  and 
entering  what  proved  to  be  a  saloon,  asked  for  a  drink  of 
water.  The  bar-tender  very  politely  handed  me  a  glass  of 
water.  "While  I  was  drinking  it  the  proprietor,  a  German, 
upbraided  his  clerk  for  giving  me  water,  when  if  he  had 
refused  I  might  have  purchased  lager.  He  said  all  this 
in  German,  which  I  understood,  and  when  I  had  set  down 
the  glass  I  looked  him  in  the  face  and  in  the  German  lan- 
guage jDolitely  thanked  him  for  the  glass  of  water,  and 
walked  awav.  He  looked  astonished,  but  his  hard  features 
did  not  relax. 

The  train  arrived  at  LaCrosse  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  But  I  was  so  saving  of  the  few  dollars  I  had 
that  I  sat  up  the  remainder  of  the  night.  But  even  this 
was  begrudged  me  by  the  hotel-keeper,  and  I  went  out  up- 
on the  streets,  and  walked  up  and  down  until  daylight. 
Thence  1  crossed  the  Mississippi  on  the  ice,  and  footed  my 
way  from  LaCrosse  to  Rushford,  up  the  valley  of  Root 
river,  and  from  there  to  Rochester,  Minn.  "While  thus 
traveling  I  was  overtaken  by  a  sudden  thaw,  and  the  walk- 
ing was  rendered  very  bad,  as  the  snow  and  water  in  many 
places  flooded  the  road.  From  Rochester  I  took  the  cars 
to  Owatonna.  Here  I  obtained  a  day  and  a  half  work.  In 
the  evening  I  attended  a  prayer-meeting  for  the  first  time 
in  Minnesota,  but  my  heart  was  so  filled  with  disquietude, 
and  my  mind  so  depressed,  that  I  could  not  enjoy  it.  From 
here  I  went  to  Austin,  where  I  obtained  half  a  day's  work. 
In  the  meantime  the  weather  had  changed,  and  a  great 
snow-storm  prevailed.  We  waited  full  six  hours  for  the 
train,  which  was  blocked  in  by  snow.  WTiile  thus  waiting, 
I  for  the  first  time  saw  Fred  Douglass,  and  listened  to  his 
brilliant  wit,  and  sound  common  sense. 

From  xlustin  1  returned  to  Racine,  on  the  promise  ot 


^AO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Mr.  Wm.  Louis,  son-in-law  to  Mr.  Mitchell,  a  prominent 
waofon  manufacturer.  Before  I  left  Eacine  lie  said  he 
would  employ  me  as  book-keeper,  if  I  failed  to  find  work. 
In  this  I  was  also  disappointed.  As  near  as  I  could  learn, 
he  promised  me  this  situation  without  intention  of  ful- 
filling. 1  waited  on  him  a  whole  week  to  anssver  me,  but 
I  have  not  yet  been  informed.  I  came  to  Kenosha  on  the 
cars,  but  from  there  the  road  was  blocked  up,  so  I  footed 
it  over  the  drifts,  often  sinking  into  them  up  to  my  waist, 
and  on  the  second  day  met  the  snow-plow  at  Genoa  Junc- 
tion, and  arrived  in  Rockford  about  midnight.  Here  I 
obtained  work  for  three  weeks.  Going  to  Freeport  I  took 
the  cars  to  Port  Byron,  arriving  there  at  ten  o'clock  at 
nio^ht.  From  here  I  footed  the  distance  to  Rock  Island  in 
the  same  night,  arriving  at  Moline  just  as  the  sun  was 
risino^.  I  was  terriblv  scared  several  times  durino^  mv  lone- 
ly  night  journey,  once  by  a  ferocious  dog,  and  once  by  a 
strange  noise  for  which  I  could  not  account,  but  which  ap- 
peared to  be  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  washing  against 
rocks  in  the  channel  of  the  river.  The  reader  will  under- 
stand that  the  road  lav  alone:  the  bank  of  the  river.  An- 
other  strange  thing  was,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
I  suddenly  entered  a  dense  fog,  and  after  traveling  some 
time  in  it,  I  as  suddenlv  came  out  of  it.  This  was  account- 
ed  for  afterward  when  I  learned  that  it  was  low,  marshy 
ground.  On  my  return  I  stopped  at  Fulton.  I  was  now 
out  of  money.  I  asked  several  hotel-keepers  to  keep  me 
all  night,  but,  upon  being  refused,  I  sought  quarters  in 
some  empty  freight  cars.  It  was  so  cold  that  I  was  soon 
frozen  oiit,  and  had  to  exercise  to  keep  warm.  I  under- 
took to  cross  the  railroad  bridge  which  spans  the  Missis- 
sippi, but  after  feeling  my  way  in  the  dark  on  the  extended 
trestle-work,  at  the  eminent  risk  of  falling  forty  or  fifty 
feet,  I  at  length  reached  the  bridge  proper,  when  I  was 
compelled  to  turn  back,  as  the  guard  would  not  permit  me 


PERSOJNAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  241 

to  pass.  Well,  I  spent  the  remainder  of  tlie  night  in  run- 
ning and  jumping  to  keep  from  freezing.  Failing  to  find 
work  at  Clinton  and  Lyons,  I  footed  my  way  back  to 
Mt.  Carroll,  where  I  obtained  two  days'  work,  and  then 
returned  to  Rockford. 

These,  rriy  good  readers  were  some  of  the  efforts  I  put 
forth  to  find  work  to  j)rovide  for  my  poor  sister.  I  cannot 
give  all  the  hardships  endured,  for  they  would  occupy  too 
much  space.  Everything  looked  dark  and  discouraging. 
It  seemed  too  bad  that  a  living  could  not  be  obtained  at  the 
price  of  honest  industry.  If  other  young  men  have  the 
same  difficulties  in  finding  situations  that  I  experienced,  I 
pity  them.  I  find  that  it  is  a  safe  rule  to  follow,  where  it  is 
possible,  to  always  look  up  a  place  or  situation,  before 
leaving  the  old.  But  of  course  this  cannot  be  done  when 
one  is  thrown  out  of  employment,  as  in  my  case. 

But  how  was  I  to  publish  a  paper  without  a  cause,  with- 
out friends,  without  money,  without  credit,  or  even  expe- 
rience as  an  editor?  I  hardly  dared  disclose  my  purpose  to 
any  one,  lest  they  would  think  me  deranged  or  a  madman. 
I  had  obtained  a  little-  more  work  upon  my  return  to  Kock- 
ford,  so  I  had  a  little  money,  enough,  perhaps,  to  pay  my 
own  and  sister's  board  for  two  weeks.  With  a  heart  too 
full  of  trouble  to  express  on  paper,  I  went  to  a  small  job 
office — then  located  near  the  river,  but  since  discontinued — 
and  hired  the  use  of  the  type  for  one  issue.  For  this  I  paid 
five  dollars.  With  a  cloud  of  doubts,  and  fears,  and  anxiety, 
I  set  every  type  for  the  paper  myself,  working  until  two  or 
three  o'clock  in  the  night.  In  the  stillness  of  the  midnight 
hour  when  naught  broke  the  silence  save 

The  click 
Of  the  type  in  the  stick, 

I  wondered  if  people  would  subscribe  for  the  Censer.     I 
thought  if  they  could  look  down  into  my  bleeding  heart, 
16 


242  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

tliev  would  subscribe,  whether  tliev  wanted  it  or  nut.  Thus 
day  after  day  and  night  after  night,  I  worked  on,  until  at 
the  end  of  two  weeks,  with  many  prayers,  and  trembling 
liands  and  a  fluttering  heart,  I  folded  the  first  sheets  as 
they  came  fresli  from  tlie  press. 

As  a  matter  of  curiosity,  as  well  as  to  show  how  faith- 
fully I  have  adhered  to  my  first  assurance  to  the  people,  I 
reproduce  the  salutatory  of  the  first  issue  of  the  Censer, 
which  is  as  follows: 

"  Through  various  difficulties  and  over  many  obstacles, 
the  Golden  Censer  comes  before  the  reader  for  the  first 
time,  fresh  and  full  of  hope.  Questions  will  arise  in  the 
mind  of  the  thoughtful  reader  as  to  what  will  be  the  pol- 
icy of  this  .paper;  what  denomination  it  is  to  represent. 
In  meeting  these  inquiries,  it  replies:  It  shall  be  its  life 
purpose  to  make  the  Golden  Censer  a  first-class  family 
paper.  All  articles  which  have  an  evil  and  pernicious 
influence  will  be  carefully  excluded  from  its  columns.  It 
is  painfully  conscious  that  our  beloved  country  is  flooded 
with  a  literature  which  is  poisoning  the  minds  and  ruining 
the  immortal  souls  of  our  young  people.  To  counteract 
tliis  tide  of  unw^holesome  reading,  it  shall  be  its  aim  to 
place  a  paper  before  the  youth  of  our  land  which  shall 
exert  a  beneficial  influence  upon  their  minds.  It  shall  be 
a  paper  for  the  young  Christian  and  aged  saint. 

"  The  Golden  Censer  is  to  represent  no  denomination, 
for  every  denomination  is  already  ably  represented  by  an 
efficient  press.  It  acknowledges  the  universal  brotherhood 
of  man.  From  whatever  shore  or  clime,  if  he  has  the  im- 
print of  Christ  upon  his  heart,  we  can  shake  him  by  the 
hand  as  a  fellow-pilgrim  on  the  heavenly  journey.  We 
expect  to  associate  with  the  blood-washed  throng  on  the 
shores  of  eternity,  why  not  here?  God  loves  the  heirs  of 
glory,  why  not  we?  They  are  on  tlieir  way  to  a  home  be- 
yond the  river  of  death,  why  not  join  their  company?     We 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  248 

may  not  agree  upon  every  point  in  theology,  but  for  that 
shall  we  turn  the  cold  shoulder  and  point  the  finger  of 
contempt  ?  God  forbid.  We  worship  one  God.  The  same 
Saviour  died  for  all.  "We  take  the  same  blessed  Bible  as 
our  guide,  and  expect  to  meet  in  Judgment,  where  it  will 
not  be  asked  what  denomination  we  represented,  but 
whether  we  have  been  workers  in  the  harvest-field  of  the 
world. 

"  But  while  we  take  this  stand,  we  do  not  wish  to  be  un- 
derstood that  we  advocate  church  union.  For  it  is  not 
clear  to  our  mind  whether  it  would  be  for  the  highest  ad- 
vantage  of  the  church  to  become  a  trunk  without  branches. 
We  believe  that  each  branch  of  the  Chris'^^ian  church  has 
her  mission  in  this  world,  and  with  Jesus  as  its  head,  we 
say,  Press  on  to  victory;  may  God  bless  your  efforts  and 
eternity  reveal  your  works  as  that  of  faithful  servants. 
Kor  do  we  wish  to  be  understood  that  we  shall  uphold  the 
views  of  the  "liberal  Christian,''  who  is  riding  to  heaven 
in  a  golden  chariot;  for  without  the  cross  there  is  no  crown. 
Nor  shall  we  approve  of  the  "isms"  w^hich  are  flooding 
our  land,  and  by  their  false  and  unscriptural  teaching  are 
sending  deluded  mortals  to  hell  by  thousands.  But  we 
shall  be  earnest  workers;  w^e  shall  advocate  righteousness, 
temperance,  and  a  judgment  to  come;  we  shall  stretch 
forth  our  hand  towards  the  erring,  and  with  tenderness 
and  love  gently  raise  them  up,  pointing  them  to  the  bleed- 
ing Lamb  of  God  'who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.' 
To  this  end  w^e  ask  that  God  may  give  us  wisdom,  a  hum- 
ble and  submissive  heart,  direct  our  throughts,  guide  us 
in  our  duties,  and  bless  the  mission  of  the  Golden  Cen- 
ser to  the  good  of  its  readers  and  the  world." 

But  all  kinds  of  rumors  were  on  the  streets,  which  made 
me  feel  very  much  discouraged.  However,  I  summoned 
courage,  and  callec^  on  seven  ministers  in  this  city  and  gave 
them  sample  copies,  with  a  simple  reques't  that   they  take 


244  AUTOBIOGRAPUY. 

them  to  prayer-meeting  and  give  them  to  earnest  workers, 
and  encourage  mj  efforts.  I  also  sent  copies  to  other  min- 
isters all  over  the  country,  with  a  similar  request.  In  the 
city  I  received  no  encouragement,  so  far  as  I  know,  from 
the  pastors  called  on,  and  but  one  from  abroad.  Things 
looked  darker  still,  for  I  expected  some  sympathy  from 
those  who  profess  to  sympathize  with  earth's  sorrowing 
ones,  who  have  consecrated  everything  to  Christ.  It 
seemed  very  dark,  for  now  I  was  not  only  out  of  work,  but 
some  S25  in  debt  fur  the  use  of  type  and  press,  and  my  own 
time  and  labor  lost.  Oh,  if  the  people  could  have  looked 
into  my  heart  and  seen  the  deep  anguish  there,  they  would 
have  been  moved  to  compassion.  But  the  conflict  was  yet 
before  me. 

Witli  a  heart  filled  with  doubts  and  anxieties,  unheralded, 
unpuffed,  and  unknown,  I  started  out  on  foot  to  procure 
subscribers.  A  few  who  knew  my  desperate  circumstances 
subscribed  to  encourage  me,  never  expecting  to  see  the  sec- 
ond issue.  LeaWng  Rockford  in  the  hands  of  my  friends 
who  promised  to  circulate  the  Censek  and  procure  sub- 
scribers, I  set  out  for  Cherry  Yalley,  Belvidere,  Caledonia, 
Beloit,  Ruckton,  Shirland,  Durand,  and  Winnebago.  These 
places  embrace  a  chain  of  towns  lying  in  a  semi-circle  north 
around  Rockford. 

At  Belvidere,  I  called  on  four  ministers  and  plead  for 
sympathy  and  co-operation  in  obtaining  subscribers.  I 
gave  them  copies,  with  a  similar  request  as  above.  Upon 
calling  on  them  a  second  time  to  learn  of  their  success,  I 
was  told  by  one,  that  the  papers  were  used  to  start  fire  with, 
by  another,  that  he  was  not  in  the  canvassing  business,  by 
a  third,  that  he  had  enough  to  do  to  attend  to  his  duties, 
and  so  on.  Not  a  single  word  of  encouragement  did  they 
give  me,  but  did  all  they  could  to  discourage  me.  I  turned 
away  grieved — and,  I  could  not  help  giving  vent  to  my 
feelings  in  tears.  *  Oh,  where  was  the  cup  of  cold  water  giv- 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  245 

en  in  the  name  of  a  disciple?  where  the  precept  of  the 
golden  rule? 

I  have  always  held  the  oflSce  of  the  Christian  ministry 
as  sacred,  and  supposed  that  of  all  men  the  consecrated 
servants  of  Christ  would  be  moved  in  sympathy  for  me, 
and  the  disappointment  of  my  expectations  staggered  my 
faith  in  religion.  But  this  was  only  for  the  moment. 
Though  all  mankind  should  deny  the  power  of  the  gospel, 
yet  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth."  In  the  depth  of 
my  distress  I  went  to  the  Fountain  of  Life  for  comfort  and 
support.  The  world's  charms  may  all  fade  as  do  the  sum- 
mer flowers,  the  gems  of  beauty  tarnish,  and  every  pros- 
pect be  cut  off;  yet  the  precious  store-house  of  God's  love 
stands  open  to  the  humblest  of  his  creatures.  There  is  the 
precious  blood — precious  because  he  who  shed  it  is  the 
mighty  God  and  the  sinless  man;  because  without  it  sin 
could  never  be  forgiven,  lost  sinners  never  saved,  and  God 
never  reconciled — precious,  because  its  voice,  both  within 
the  veil  and  in-  believing  hearts,  ever  whispers  peace — 
precious,  because  every  soul  sprinkled  with  it  shall  be 
eternally  safe  from  the  glittering  sword  of  God's  vengeance. 
Of  its  preciousness  the  white-robed  multitude  will  ever  sing 
before  the  throne  of  God. 

To  the  aching  heart  Jesus  is  precious  because  he  is  the 
brightness  of  his  Father's  glory;  because  he  is  ''bone  of 
our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh;"  because  all  the  majesty 
of  Divinity,  all  the  tenderness  of  perfect  humanity,  meet 
in  him;  because  in  his  person  and  in  his  work  there  is  ex- 
act suitableness  to  meet  the  need  of  ruined  souls  and  trust- 
ing saints.  He  is  the  "  one  pearl  of  great  price  " — the 
"chiefest  among  ten  thousand,"  the  "  altogether  lovely 
One."  His  holiness,  his  power,  his  love,  his  grace,  are 
precious.  His  living,  his  dying,  his  interceding,  his  second 
coming,  are  precious.  So  exceeding  precious  is  he  to  be- 
lieving hearts,  that  to  all  eternity  they  will  gaze  upon  it, 
and  tell  it  out,  and  yet  leave  its  depths  unfathomed. 


246  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

This  precious  Saviour  gives  us  precious  faith,  and  this  is 
precious  because  it  is  the  hand  that  clings  to  a  precious 
Christ — the  eye  tliat  gazes  upon  him  through  the  mists 
and  vapors  that  darken  this  vale  of  tears.  Precious,  be- 
cause it  draws  the  soul  into  communion  with  its  risen 
Head.  Precious,  because  it  rests  on  the  sure  foundation 
of  the  truth  of  a  covenant-keeping  God.  Precious,  because 
it  looks  "not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,"  often  so 
troublesome  and  so  dark,  but  "  the  things  which  are  not 
seen,"  "  the  fullness  of  joy,"  which  is  at  "God's  right 
hand  for  evermore." 

Added  to  all  these  are  the  precious  promises,  precious, 
because  they  are  very  many;  and  their  clusters  are  very 
sweet.  Pardon  for  the  guilty,  strength  for  the  weak,  com- 
fort for  the  mourner — yea,  every  good  and  perfect  gift  that 
weary,  hungry,  thirsty  souls  can  need,  is  wrapped  up  in 
these  "precious  promises."  Tliey  shine  forth  through  the 
Word,  as  brilliant  stars  shine  out  of  midnight.  They  re- 
joice the  heart  as  fair  flowers  charm  the  weary  wanderer 
over  a  desert  way.  Precious,  because  they  are  "yea  and 
amen  in  Christ  Jesus."  The  believer's  heritage  of  pro- 
mises, in  all  its  rich,  unfailing  abundamce,  can  never  be 
forfeited. 

These  precious  things  all  the  discouragement  of  the 
world  could  not  take  from  me,  and  in  this  time  of  per- 
plexity were  a  great  consolation,  and  enabled  me  through 
my  tears  to  look  up  from  the  world,  and  beyond  its  heart- 
less, unceasing  cares  to  the  hill-tops  of  glory.  Ah,  yes, 
good  reader,  beyond  this  vale  of  gloom,  where  cold  winds 
blow  and  bitter  storms  beat,  is  a  fair  land  of  delightful 
scenery  and  healthfulness.  Xo  storms  come  there.  I^o 
clouds,  no  frosts,  no  heat,  no  withering  of  beautiful  flowers, 
no  fadino:  of  lovelv  fields — the  "ever^jreen  shore,"  indeed. 
Here  the  skies  are  always  bright,  the  air  ever  pure,  birds 
ever   singing,  nature  ever  smiling.     Hilltops  are  clad    in. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  247 

bright  green,  valleys  decked  with  beauteous  flowers.  !N^a- 
ture  smiles  to  the  inhabitants  of  that  land,  and  the  blessed 
inhabitants  smile  back,  and  say,  "Great  is  the  Lord,  and 
greatly  to  be  praised!"  The  bright  bej^ond  is  not  far  off. 
Over  these  "hills  of  time,"  in  the  near  distance,  the  hill- 
tops of  glory  appear;  and  roaming  those  "sweet  fields  be- 
yond the  swelling  tide"  shall  be  seen  those  who  are  now 
freed  from  the  troubles  that  crowd  in  upon  my.  life.  1  too 
long  to  be  free,  yet  I  dare  not  distrust  the  goodness  of  my 
Heavenly  Father  who  is  too  wise  to  err.  I  have  somewhere 
read  of  a  chamois  hunter  of  Chamouni,  who,  in  crossing 
the  Mer  de  Glace,  endeavored  to  leap  across  one  of  the 
enormous  crevasses  or  fissures  by  which  the  ice-ocean  is 
in  many  places  rent.  He  missed  his  footing  and  fell  in, 
but  was  able,  by  extending  his  arms,  to  moderate  the  speed 
of  his  descent,  and  thus  reached  the  bottom,  a  hundred 
yards  below,  without  a  fracture  of  limbs.  But  his  situ- 
ation seemed  hopeless.  He  could  not  scale  the  slippery 
walls  of  his  crystal  prison,  and  in  a  few  hours  at  most  he 
must  be  frozen  to  death.  A  stream  of  water  was  rushing 
below  the  ice,  downwards  towards  the  valley.  He  followed 
this,  the  only  possible  path.  Sometimes  he  had  to  bend 
low  in  the  narrow  tunnel;  sometimes  he  waded,  sometimes 
he  floated  down.  At  length  he  reached  a  vaulted  chamber, 
from  which  there  was  no  visible  outlet.  The  water  which 
filled  it  darkly  heaved.  Hetreat  was  impossible;  delay 
was  death.  So,  commending  himself  to  the  help  of  God, 
he  plunged  down  into  the  center  of  the  gurgling  pool. 
Then  followed  a  moment  or  two  of  darkness,  tumult  and 
terror;  then  he  was  thrown  up  amidst  the  flowers,  and  the 
hay -fields,  and  the  merry  songs  of  the  vale  of  Chamouni. 
This  illustrates  the  brief  moment  of  time  wdien  compared 
with  eternity.  Our  path  may  be  often  dark  and  dangerous. 
Escape  may  seem  impossible.  Death  may  put  on  its  most 
appalling  form.     But  uttering  our  watchword,  "  Jehovah 


248  AUTOBIOGKAPHY. 

Jireh,"  let  us  still  advance.  Even  if  we  see  no  liglit  be- 
yond, let  us  plunge  into  the  darkness  for  a  moment  only. 
Then  we  shall  be  ushered  into  that  world  of  light  and  bliss, 
where  we  shall  prove,  in  the  fullest  sense,  that  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  to 
conceive,  the  things  which  God  has  provided  for  those  who 
love  him. 

While  life  is  brief  when  compared  with  eternity,  yet  it 
is  our  duty  and  privilege  to  work  for  God.  In  this  span  of 
existence,  though  we  can  touch  the  cradle  with  one  hand, 
and  the  tomb-stone  Mdth  the  other,  the  highest  favor  that 
can  be  conferred  upon  a  mortal  is  to  be  permitted  to  work 
for  God.  The  dignity  of  the  calling  does  not  depend  upon 
the  work  done,  but  upon  the  exalted  character  of  him  for 
\\hom  it  is  performed.  The  Queen  of  Sheba  regarded  the 
servants  of  Solomon  as  objects  of  envy.  His  fame  was 
great  throughout  the  world,  and  his  servants  shared  in  his 
renown. 

If  those  who  serve  an  earthly  monarch  derive  luster  from 
his  power,  much  more  are  those  exalted  who  do  the  bid- 
ding of  the  King  of  kings.  They  are  the  favored  one.s  of 
earth.  Tliey  are  akin  to  angels.  These  do  the  will  of  God 
in  heaven;  the  saints  do  it  in  the  more  difficult  place — on 
earth.  Their  reward  is  great.  It  will  be  bestowed,  not 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  work,  but  according  to  the 
fidelity  with  which  it  is  done. 

God  will  give  employment  to  everyone  Wiio  will  consent 
to  do  his  will,  but  we  cannot  choose  our  work.  God  does 
that.  AYe  are  very  apt  to  over-estimate  our  own  ability. 
A  railroad  could  never  be  run  if  every  man  was  allowed  to 
choose  his  own  position.  The  brakemen  would  all  want  to 
be  conductors — the  conductors,  directors — the  firemen, 
engineers,  and  the  engineers,  superintendents.  There  is 
always  confusion  in  the  cause  of  God  when  the  disciples 
insist  upon  choosing  their  })laces.     Diotrephes  is  never  sat- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  249 

isfied  unless  he  can  have  tlie  pre-eminence.  His  motto  is, 
*'  Rule  or  ruin;"  and  where  he  rules  he  is  almost  sure  to 
ruin.  The  foot  is  a  very  useful  member  of  the  body;  but 
place  it  where  the  eye  should  be,  and  it  becomes  a  deform- 
ity and  a  nuisance.  He  who  is  sulky  and  fault-finding, 
unless  he  can  be  leader,  is  not  fit  for  a  leader.  He  who 
backslides  because  a  license  is  not  given  him,  stands  more 
in  need  of  saving  grace  than  of  a  license. 

If  we  really  desire  to  serve  God,  we  shall  take  our  work 
as  his  providence  opens  it  before  us.  We  shall  not  grumble 
at  his  allotments.  'We  shall  not  keep  everything  in  confu- 
sion by  insisting  upon  having  our  own  preferences  gratified. 
Some  persons,  who  really  appear  to  want  to  be  good,  can 
never,  for  any  length  of  time,  be  contented  anywhere. 
Things  do  not  go  as  they  wish.  The  wills  of  others  come 
in  conflict  with  their  own.  Unexpected  difficulties  arise. 
Faith  and  perseverance  might  overcome  them.  And  this 
was  the  element  now  called  forth  by  the  opposition  of  those 
who  professed  to  be  ministers  of  Christ.  "Wliile  I  was 
toiling  night  and  day  to  bring  out  the  Censer,  I  never 
anticipated  that  I  would  meet  with  opposition  from  Chris- 
tians, or  that  mv  hard-earned  efforts  would  be  used  bv  a 
minister  to  light  his  fire  with.  But  so  goes  the  world.  I 
might  have  known  better  had  I  reflected,  for  the  progress 
of  the  Christian  religion  has  been  contended  every  inch  of 
its  way,  and  men  sometimes  preach  for  money.  But  per- 
haps it  was  suffered  to  be  so,  for  it  kindled  the  fires  of  true 
devotion  in  my  o^yn  heart,  and  when  I  saw  the  deadness 
of  the  church  it  filled  my  soul  with  a  zeal  and  enthusiasm 
before  unexperienced,  and  I  resolved  to  boldly  contend  for 
my  God-given  rights,  though  all  the  forces  of  earth  and 
hell  were  brought  to  bear  against  me.  It  requires  a  holy 
boldness  to  stand  up  for  truth  under  every  trying  circum- 
stance. You  remember  when  Paul  with  burning  eloquence 
and  unparalleled  earnestness  preached  of   temperance,  of 


250  AUTOBIOOKAPIIY. 

rigliteousness,  and  of  a  judgment  to  come,  even  the  learned 
Agrippa  cried  out:  "  Paul,  thou  art  beside  thyself;  much 
learning  doth  make  thee  mad."  To  meet  the  forces  of  sin, 
a  man  must  take  his  life  in  his  hands,  and  commit  his  ways 
unto  God.  There  is  no  neutral  ground — "  either  for  or 
against "  is  the  Divine  declaration. 

There  is  a  power  in  this  divine  consecration,  this  holy 
enthusiasm,  this  convincing  earnestness,  this  pleading  per- 
severance that  carries  all  before  it.  One  man  with  God  on 
his  side  can  put  to  flight  ten  thousand  of  the  hosts  of  hell. 
Witness  Elijah  on  Mt.  Carmel.  All  Israel  is  assembled  to 
see  which  should  be  God.  With  a  boldness,  and  yet  a 
humble  trust  in  the  God  of  heaven,  he  stands  up  before 
the  assembled  thousands  and  not  only  defies  the  prophets 
of  Baal  to  call  on  their  god  to  consume  the  sacrifice  by  lire, 
but  in  language  that  must  have  vexed  them,  he  said,  '*  Cry 
aloud,  for  he  is  a  god,  either  he  is  walking,  or  he  is  pursu- 
ing, or  he  is  on  a  journey,  or  perad venture,  he  sleepeth." 
There  was  no  cringing  fear  in  that  language.  The  proph- 
et's heart  burned  with  holy  enthusiasm  to  win  the  people 
back  to  the  worship  of  the  true  God.  The  same  enthusi- 
asm was  manifest  on  the  day  of  pentecost  when  Peter  stood 
up  before  the  very  Jews  who  had  so  recently  crucitied  the 
Lord,  and  plainly  told  them  that  they  had  committed  the 
wicked  act.  Evidently  Peter  did  not  preach  to  please  the 
people.  He  delivered  God's  message  though  every  word 
like  melted  lava  went  burning  its  way  to  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers.  Oh,  for  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  these 
days  of  backsliding  and  coldness  I  I  want  enthusiasm  in 
God's  work,  and  T  must  have  it  if  I  would  succeed.  I  care 
not  what  the  world  or  sinners  may  say.  The  devil  would 
steal  away  my  very  heart  if  I  would  but  let  him.  AVhy 
should  it  be  a  reproach  to  a  Christian  to  use  this  element 
of  power?  We  find  it  in  the  world.  Show  me  the  man 
who  is  not  earnest  in  his  secular  business,  and  I  will  show 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  251 

you  one  who  does  not  prosper.  Yes,  men  are  sometimes 
intensely  earnest  when  dollars  are  at  stake,  or  homes  are 
being  lost,  or  property  destroyed.  "Who  could  not  see  this 
element  in  action  when  the  great  financial  crisis  was  upon 
us,  and  banks  were  tottering?  Why,  in  New  York  men 
sat  up  day  and  night  poring  over  their  ledgers,  and  on  the 
streets  men  oifered  fortunes  to  but  take  the  place  of  another 
in  the  crowd  pushing  toward  some  unfortunate  bank.  Men 
were  enthusiastic  then,  and  they  were  not  ashamed  to  let 
the  world  see  their  enthusiasm.  So  it  is  on  election  days. 
How  men  will  work,  and  pull,  and  plead,  and  argue  to  se- 
cure the  election  of  their  men.  And  they  are  not  ashamed 
to  let  men  know  that  they  are  enthusiastic.  But  the  Chris- 
tian, he  must  keep  cool,  keep  his  mouth  shut,  put  his  light 
under  a  bushel.  Don't  raise  a  religious  excitement.  If 
YOU  do,  why  souls  will  be  converted,  and  the  devil  will  be 
defeated.  Ah,  good  readers,  if  we  would  win  in  the  battle 
of  life,  we  must  let  the  world  know  that  we  mean  earnest, 
uncompromising,  persevering,  enthusiastic  efforts !  Men  are 
in  earnest  in  business  circles,  in  every  department  in  life 
The  minions  of  darkness  are  in  earnest  in  their  work  of  ruin. 
The  saloon,  the  ball-room,  the  theater,  the  places  of  pleas- 
ure, are  open  day  and  night  to  lead  the  young  from  the 
paths  of  virtue.  And  these  places  are  fearfully  in  earnest 
in  their  hellish  work.  So  enthusiastic  are  they  in  their 
labors  that  these  gateways  to  ruin,  these  side  doors  to  per- 
dition, these  ante-rooms  to  hell,  are  clothed  and  arrayed  in 
the  most  attractive  manner  possible. 

With  our  church  doors  locked  all  but  two  or  three  hours 
in  the  week,  with  our  faith,  if  we  have  any,  down  in  our 
boots,  with  our  over-coats  and  furs  on,  with  fear,  doubt  and 
hesitancy  stamped  in  every  feature  of  our  face,  and  with  a 
hollow,  sepulchral  voice,  we  wail  over  the  declination  of 
religion,  we  talk  about  the  inroads  of  infidelity,  the  rapid 
spread  of  the   "isms"  that  are  creeping  over  the  world. 


252  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

And  it  is  enough  to  freeze  the  very  atmosphere  to  hear 
some  Christians  talk.  Oh!  my  brethren,  open  those  church 
doors,  pull  off  those  over-garments,  fling  those  doubts  and 
fears  to  the  wind,  and,  under  God,  go  to  work  with  the 
same  faith  and  enthusiasm  that  you  display  in  your  count- 
ing-room, your  store,  3'our  work-shop,  or  in  whatever  de- 
partment of  life  you  may  be  engaged,  and  there  is  no 
scriptural  reason  why  there  should  not  be  such  a  revival 
of  reliijion  throucrhout  this  land  as  has  not  been  witnessed 
for  years.  ''According  to  your  faith,  be  it  unto  you.-' 
There  is  more  dangler  of  cold  formalism  than  of  anvthino: 
else.  TVe  have  unbounded  faith  in  the  gospel  of  Christ  to 
the  savincr  of  the  world.  It  is  declared  that  the  nations 
would  be  converted,  that  the  kingdoms  should  become  our 
Lord's.  Wliy  not  work  for  the  accomplishment  of  these 
desirable  ends?  Let  the  children  of  God  but  see  eye  to 
eye  in  this  great,  this  common  work,  and  Christianity,  like 
a  mighty  tidal  wave,  will  sweep  all  the  opposing  elements 
before  it.  There  is  as  much  power  in  the  gospel  to-day  as 
ever.  The  arm  of  the  Almighty  is  not  shortened  that  he 
cannot  save.  TVe  know  that  man  unrenewed  by  grace  is 
bad,  but  no  worse  now  than  at  any  former  time.  He  is  as 
bad  as  he  can  be.  He  was  bad  in  Eden:  he  was  bad  for 
two  thousand  years  under  the  law,  and  has  been  bad  these 
almost  nineteen  hundred  years  under  grace;  but  there  is 
power  in  the  gospel  to  save.  TVlien  men  are  willing  to 
give  their  lives  to  work  for  God  and  for  liumanity,  then 
he  takes  these  men  and  uses  them. 

I  have  always  admired  Grant's  replies.  "When  asked  as 
to  the  feasibility  of  a  certain  military  measure  he  replied, 
"We  will  flofht  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all  summer." 
When  the  brave  Garibaldi  was  on  his  way  to  Rome,  he  was 
told  that  if  he  got  there  he  would  be  imprisoned.  Said 
he,  '*  If  fifty  Garibaldis  are  imprisoned,  let  Rome  be  free  I" 
And  when   the  cause  of  Christ  is   buried  so  deep  in  oui 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  253 

hearts  that  we  do  not  think  of  ourselves,  and  are  willing 
to  die,  then  we  will  reach  our  fellow-men.  There  have  been 
in  ever}'  age  brave  souls  that  stood  as  living  witnesses  for 
Christ.  And,  thank  God,  there  are  many  such  in  every 
community  at  the  present  time.  Dr.  Duff,  the  returned 
missionary,  once  addressed  a  meeting  of  his  countrymen 
in  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  As  his  grea.t  heart  burned  with- 
in him  for  the  great  mission  work,  and  witnessing  the  ap- 
parent coldness  and  indifference  of  his  hearers,  he  grew 
eloquent,  not  only  eloquent,  but  earnest,  not  only  earnest^ 
but  enthuiastic,  until  he  fainted  in  the  midst  of  his  speech. 
THien  he  recovered,  he  said:  "I  was  speaking  for  India^ 
was  I  not?"  And  they  said  he  was.  "  Take  me  back,  that 
I  may  finish  my  speech."  And,  notwithstanding  the  en- 
treaties of  those  around,  he  insisted  on  returning,  and  they 
brought  him  back.  He  then  said,  "Is  it  true  that  we  have 
been  sending  appeal  after  appeal  for  young  men  to  go  to 
India,  and  none  of  our  sons  have  gone?  Is  it  true  that 
Scotland  has  no  more  sons  to  give  to  the  Lord  Jesus?  If 
true,  although  I  have  spent  twenty-five  years  there,  and 
lost  my  constitution — if  it  is  true  that  Scotland  has  no 
more  sons  to  give,  I  will  be  off  to-morrow,  and  go  to  the 
shores  of  the  Ganges,  and  there  be  a.  witness  for  Christ." 
That  is  what  we  want.  A  little  more — a  good  deal  more — 
of  that  enthusiasm,  and  Christianity  will  begin  to  move, 
and  go  through  the  world  and  will  reach  men  hj  hundreds 
and  thousands. 

If  these  professed  servants  of  Christ  had  thus  been  ac- 
tuated they  would  have  taken  me  by  the  hand  and  said: 
"  Yes,  young  brother,  your  paper  has  the  gospel  ring  in  it, 
and  in  so  far  as  you  conform  to  the  teachings  of  the  divine 
Master,  God  bless  your  efforts.  We  will  help  you.  There 
are  people  all  over  these  cities  that  need  just  such  a  paper." 
But  this  was  not  said  to  me;  hence,  is  it  uncharitable  to 
conclude  that  either  they  were  extremely  selfish  or  else 
they  were  "wolves  in  sheep's  clothing"? 


254  AUTOBTOOnAPHY. 

BeiDi?  thus  taunted  and  mocked,  with  a  bleed ino' heart 
I  turned  away  from  these  dry  sticks,  these  soulless  mon- 
sters, these  who  denied  me  the  crust  of  bread  or  cup  of 
water,  and  put  mj  trust  alone  in  God,  and  reiving  upon 
mv  own  energy,  set  out  on  foot,  visited  all  the  places  round 
about,  and  personally  asked  the  p3ople  to  patronize  my 
humble  eiforts. 

I  was  two  weeks  in  making  the  trip.  And  oh,  the  weary 
feet,  and  trial  of  faith,  the  choking  back  the  crushed  feel- 
inofs.  and  the  heart-sio:hs  were  known  onlv  to  mvself!  But 
there  were  wayside  angels — God  bless  them! — who  had 
comforting  words  even  for  me.  Out  of  the  thousands  of 
homes  visited  by  me — for  I  worked  from  the  time  people 
were  out  of  their  beds  in  the  morning  until  they  retired  at 
evening — I  procured  some  320  subscribers.  About  half 
of  these  had  paid  me.  Foot-sore  and  well-nigh  sick  from 
exhaustion,  I  returned  to  Bockford,  paid  my  bills  for  paper, 
printing,  etc.,  and  at  once  set  to  work  to  bring  out  the  sec- 
ond edition.  This  was  issued  the  same  as  the  first — doing 
all  the  work  myself.  By  the  time  this  was  put  to  press, 
four  weeks  had  expired  since  the  first  issue. 

When  I  had  returned  from  my  trip,  and  paid  all  my  ob- 
ligations, some,  who  were  stung  because  God  had  helped 
me  despite  their  contumelies,  then  misrepresented  me. 
Turning  to  the  file  of  the  second  issue,  Yol.  I.,  I  find  the 
followinjr  lano^uao:e  in  one  of  its  editorials:  ''  The  reader  is 
aware  that  I  do  all  the  mechanical  labor  upon  the  paper 
myself,  and  it  keeps  me  so  occupied,  that  I  am  compelled 
to  work  nights  until  a  late  hour.  I  have  been  so  pressed 
on  this  issue,  that  I  have  not  even  had  time  to  write  out 
my  editorials,  but  have  put  them  from  the  brain  into  type. 
As  I  compose  the  type  on  this  article,  all  is  still  as  death 
around  me.  The  noise  and  bustle  of  ''busv  life"  has 
ceased ;  ♦^^he  '^world's  great  workshop  is  closed ;"  you,  gentle 
reader,  like  the  lily  of  the  valley,  have  gone  to  rest.     Sweet 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  255 

sleep  is  refreshing  your  weary  body  and  mind,  while  the 
stars  above  you  in  beauty  smile-on  the  darkness  of  night, 
and  the  dewy  shades  mantle  mountain  and  forest  and  field. 
I  fain  would  enjoy  your  luxury,  but  patiently  I  toil,  while 
the  deep-toned  bell  in  yonder  church  spire  measures  off  the 
weary  hours,  to  bring  forth  a  paper  which  might  interest 
you.  As  I  work  on,  doubts  and  shadows  flit  before  me, 
I  wonder  if  sympathy  for  me  fills  your  heart  to  the  extent 
of  spending  one  hour,  only  one  hour,  in  getting  sub- 
scribers, while  I  give  not  only  day  after  day,  but  night 
after  night.  It  is  hard  for  me,  I  admit,  but,  dear  reader, 
you  would  weep  over  me  if  you  knew  the  anxiety  which 
weighs  down  my  poor  heart.  God  knows  I  am  honest  as 
the  day  is  long,  yet  hundreds,  for  no  other  reason  than 
simply  because  I  have  kindly  solicited  their  patronage,  have 
expressed  their  suspicion  as  to  my  motive,  and  I  am  grieved 
when  I  meet  such.  For  could  they  look  down  into  my 
heart  and  see  the  motive  they  would  insult  me  no  more." 
Oh,  it  was  so  hard.  I  was  sorry  many  times  I  was  so 
foolish  as  to  enter  upon  such  an  undertaking.  While  thus 
lamentinor  I  received  the  foUowino^  letter: 

148  Madison  St.,  Chicago,  III.,  May  6,  1868. 

Friend  Lemley: — I  feel  that  I  am  no  stranger  to  you, 
for  I  love  all  that  love  my  Savior,  and  I  write  to  encourage 
you,  if  you  are  unselfishly  doing  God's  will.  But  why  not 
put  your  paper  on  higher  ground  than  to  support  self? 
Why  not  propose  to  do  all  in  your  power  and  all  in  the 
power  of  your  friends,  with  the  help  and  blessing  of  God, 
to  try  and  win  sinners  to  Christ — and  that  short  word 
"  sinners"  includes  us  all — to  try  and  make  Christians 
Christ-like,  to  make  them  better,  to  show  them  the  possi- 
bility of  a  better  Christian  life  in  this  world? 

Your  life  has  not  been  of  sore  trouble  for  nauo^ht.  Man 
did  it,  but  God  allowed  it,  and  allowed  it  for  good      He  has 


256  AUTOPIOGRAPIIY 

good  in  store  for  you,  if  you  will  reach  out  your  liand  for 
it.  May  God  bless  you  and  guide  you  and  show  you  him- 
self. 

There  are  two  ways  of  starting  a  newspaper.  The  first, 
is  to  spend  from  $20,000  to  $50,000  to  establish  and  find  a 
circulation.  That  is  man's  way,  and  it  shows  the  usual 
wisdom  of  man  in  its  extravagance.  The  other  way  is,  to 
be  sure  you  are  doing  God's  will,  and  in  faith  rely  upon 
him  to  find  for  it  a  circulation.  God's  blessing  is  worth 
more  than  $50,000  or  $100,000. 

I  believe  in  Providence,  and  I  do  not  know  but  God  has 
been  training  you  for  just  this  work,  and  that  your  paper, 
so  unattractive  to  bigoted  men,  set  in  sects  like  men  in 
plaster  cases  in  order  to  get  their  "  busts,"  may  yet  be  the 
jDower  of  God  unto  salvation.  I  pray  God  that  it  may  be 
a  spiritual  paper,  and  that  its  tendency  may  be  to  draw  a 
backsliden  people  nearer  their  God,  from  whom  they  con- 
tinually confess  they  have  departed.  h.  d. 

This  letter  from  (to  me)  an  entire  stranger  was  a  beam 
of  sunshine  through  the  rifted  clouds.  It  put  new  ideas 
into  my  mind.  I  had  thought  of  nothing  higher,  except  in 
a  general  way,  that  is,  it  was  not  the  burden  of  my  heart 
to  make  it  wholly  a  simple  matter  of  faith  in  God,  and  look 
to  him  for  my  daily  bread,  but  I  was  desperately  struggling 
to  relieve  my  temporal  wants.  I  thought  if  God  should 
bless  my  humble  efibrts,  why  not  throw  myself  upon  his 
bountv?     But  I  was  slow  in  learnino^  this  lesson. 

As  soon  as  the  second  issue  was  from  the  j^ress,  I  again 
set  out  on  foot  to  procure  subscribers.  This  time  1  visited 
New  Milford,  Byron,  Oregon,  Mt.  Morris,  Polo,  Dixon, 
Franklin  Grove,  xVshton,  Rochelle,  Creston,  Malta,  DeKalb 
Center,  Courtland  Station,  and  Sycamore.  1  was  about 
two  weeks  in  completing  this  circuit,  and  returned  to  Rock- 
ford  with  my  boots  literally  walked  out,  worn  to  shreds, 
but  I  had  four  hundred  names. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  257 

One  of  the  most  fearful  nights  I  ever  passed  was  in  foot- 
ing it  from  Sycamore  to  JBelvidere,  across  the  country, 
twenty-two  miles,  in  a  terrible  rain-storm.  There  was  not 
a  dry  thread  on  my  person,  and  I  thought  I  should  give 
up  before  reaching  the  latter  place.  But  I  succeeded,  and 
was  in  time  for  the  night  train  west. 

I  could  fill  this  page  with  incidents  in  my  canvass,  but 
I  must  hasten  along  in  this  sketch.  Doubtless  many  will 
remember  the  care-worn  and  discouraged  face  of  the  writer 
as  he  for  the  first  time  modestly  asked  them  to  subscribe 
for  the  Censer. 

In  all  of  the  above-named  towns  the  Censer  has  had  a 
good  circulation  from  the  beginning,  and  many  names,  I 
remember  them  still,  now  stand  on  my  lists  as  landmarks 
of  those  days. 

I  remember  entering  a  house  in  Oregon,  when  the  lady 
looked  me  in  the  face  and  exclaimed;  "Why,  young  man, 
you  are  sick?"  I  replied  that  the  hot  sun  constantly  beat- 
ing down  upon  my  temples  caused  me  to  suiFer  continually 
from  severe  headaches,  but  I  could  not  help  it. 

But  why  do  I  prolong  this  scene?  Pen  cannot  describe 
the  hardships  and  the  struggles  and  the  weary,  unceasing 
tramp,  tramp,  from  daylight  to  late  in  the  evening.  But 
in  all  this  I  was  establishing  my  credit,  if  nothing  more. 
Farther,  I  learned  lessons  worth  their  weight  in  pure  gold. 
I  noted  every  word  and  criticism  uttered  or  made,  and  I  ob- 
tained the  expression  of  the  people  as  to  their  idea  of  what 
a  religious  paper  ought  to  be,  and  I  said  to  myself,  God 
being  my  helper,  I  would  incorporate  the  ideas  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  bring  out  just  such  a  paper  as  they  had  indicated. 
Thus  the  reader  will  see  that  I  took  my  first  lessons  in 
editorship  while  tramping  from  door  to  door,  and  listening 
to  the  criticisms,' which  sometimes  were  severe  and  hu- 
miliating, 

With  the  experience,  the  money,  and  the  seven  hundred 
17 


25S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and  fifty  names,  I  began  to  feel  encouraged.  I  bent  all  my 
enerofies  to  my  task,  and  issued  the  third  number  at>1ut 
the  10th  of  June,  and  every  two  weeks  after  this  issue 
through  the  year! 

I  also  received  several  encourao^inof  letters  of  which  the 
following  is  one: 

Beloit,  AYis.,  June  7,  1868. 
Dear  Beo.  Lemley: — In  looking  over  the  Golden  Cen- 
ser, to-day,  I  see  so  much  food  fur  the  Christian  I  can 
truly  say  that  my  heart  burned  within  me  while  reading 
your  blessed  paper.  I  would  say,  brother,  go  on,  and  may 
God  bless  yon,  and  may  you  succeed  in  your  noble  enter- 
prise; you  shall  have  my  feeble  prayers,  influence  and 
support,  and  I  doubt  not  that  you  will  soon  have  the  prayers 
and  support  of  all  good  Christians.  I  feel  that  your 
paper  is  just  what  we  all  need  in  our  families  where  we 
have  children.  Keep  up  good  courage  and  let  your  noble 
paper  circulate;  it  will  be  bread  cast  upon  waters;  it  will 
return  with  double  blessing  to  you.  If  you  ever  should 
hear  that  one  precious  soul  has  been  saved  through  God's 
goodness  by  reading  your  paper,  it  would  well  pay  you  for 
all  the  trouble  and  trials  you  have  had.  I  hope  you  will 
succeed;  you  must  not  get  discuuraged,  knowing  that  you 
are  in  a  good  cause.     Yours  respectfully, 

M.  D.  Clarke. 

While  working  on  the  third  issue,  I  purchased  type 
enough  to  set  up  the  entire  paper,  but  the  press-work  had 
to  be  done  at  another  oflSce.  At  the  end  of  six  months 
the  circulation  reached  one  thousand.  But  I  persevered 
with  an  iron  determination,  and  with  an  energy  that  bid 
defiance  to  impossibilities  and  that  would  make  a  failure  a 
success,  I  surmounted  every  obstacle,  and  carried  out  my 
purpose.     I  confess  it  required  firmness  and  a  stifi:*  upper 


PERSONAL    liECOLLECTIONS.  259 

lip,  but  I  could  not  for  a  moment  entertain  tlie  thought  of 
giving  up. 

As  the  reader  might  expect,  I  made  many  blunders.  But 
there  was  always  some  one  ready  to  send  me  a  cutting, 
stinging  letter.  These  I  would  read,  and  re-read,  bitter 
though  they  were  to  my  sensitive  feelings,  until  the  lesson 
was  stamped  upon  my  mind.  I  cannot  express  the  dis- 
comfitui^  I  experienced  when  somebody,  being  offended  at 
an  article,  ordered  the  paper  stopped.  I  surely  thought 
my  business  was  ruined,  for  I  expected  the  next  mail  flooded 
with  similar  letters. 

In  the  midst  of  my  perplexities  and  doubts,  I  received 
the  following  letter  from  the  Eev.  Isaiah  B.  Coleman,  West 
Stephentown,  K.  Y. : 

'"What  meaneth  this?'  Thus  inquired  the  wondering 
multitude,  when  wi^.h  the  sound  of  'a  rushing,  mighty 
wind,'  God  manifested  himself  to  his  disciples — the  Holy 
Ghost  resting  upon  them  in  '  cloven  tongues  like  as  of  Are,' 
inspiring  them  with  power  to  speak  with  other  tongues 
the  wonderful  works  of  God.  Xot  at  some  mighty,  rush- 
ing wind,  not  at  cloven  tongues  of  fire,  nor  of  the  speaking 
with  other  tongues,  have  we  stood  in  wonder  and  amaze- 
ment, but  at  the  wonderful  power  of  God,  in  taking  instru- 
ments of  humble  birth,  and  transforming  them,  as  it  were, 
into  angels  of  mercy.  So  thought  we,  as  we  took  up  the 
Golden  Censer,  addressed  to  another,  with  its  pages  all 
aglow,  with  its  sweet-burning  incense,  fragrant  with  its 
well-timed  soul-food,  adapting  itself  to  the  wants  of  its 
many  readers.  The  inquiry  and  amazement  becomes  more 
intense,  as  the  mind  goes  back  only  a  i'ew  years.  "When 
its  editor,  as  yet  but  a  boy,  stood  at  tiie  door  of  the  writer, 
shivering  with  cold — from  his  scanty  clothing — asking 
alms,  with  his  little  brother,  driven  under  fear  of  the  lash 
from  the  door  of  that  humble  home,  by  him,  who  of  all 


260  A.CTOBIOGR  A  PUY. 

others,  should  liave  provided  for  and  comforted  those  poor 
worse  tliau  orphan  boys. 

"Again,  bj  the  influence  of  one  whom  he  has  since  chosen 
to  adopt  as  mother,  he  stands  in  the  vestibule  of  the  old 
church  at  West  Stephentown,  X.  Y.,  trembling  lest  none 
should  care  for  the  poor  outcast  boy.  But  he  is  welcomed 
and  soon  stands  in  the  Sunday-school  class,  with  the  boy 
teacher,  whose  head  comes, little  more  than  to  the  shoulder 
of  his  pupil,  to  learn  his  first  lesson  of  the  way  of  life ; 
and  to  be  told,  that  though  driven  out  from  home  with 
none  there  to  love  him,  that  the  ever-blessed  Jesus  loved 
and  would  care  for  the  poor  friendless  boy. 

"  It  is  a  wonder  that  he,  abandoned  by  home  friends,  did 
not  abandon  himself,  and  drift  down  the  ways  of  death, 
instead  of  climbing  the  rugged  steeps  of  light  and  life, 
and  then  seeking  to  rescue  from  the  asylum  a  dear  sister, 
motherless  and  deranged,  forsaken  and  driven  there  by  ill- 
treatment  at  home;  that  for  her  sake  the  Golden  Censer 
springs  into  life.  All  this  is  a  matter  of  thanksgiving  if 
not  of  surprise.  That  it  still  lives  with  its  fast-increasing 
patronage  and  prosperity,  reminds  us  of  the  comforting 
words  of  an  inspired  writer,  '  When  my  father  and  my 
mother  forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up.' 

"  I.  B.  Coleman." 

Kotwithstanding  the  ups  and  downs,  the  sunshine  and 
the  shadow,  the  joys  and  depressions,  the  Censer  lived 
through  its  babyhood,  and  its  misgiving  editor  had  the 
satisfaction  of  closing  volume  first  in  triumph.  The  Cen- 
ser was  a  success!  And  not  only  did  the  Censer  live,  but 
the  editor  lived,  and  so  did  Lis  sister  for  whom  he  was 
providing,  and  I  paid  cash  for  paper  and  printing  at  the 
end  of  every  issue.  And  over  and  above  all  expenses,  I 
realized  six  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which  I  invested  in 
a  little  home. 


TEKSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  261 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

DiSCOUKAGEMENTS  —  OPPOSITIONS PaTIENCE  UNDER  PER- 
PLEXITIES —  Success  —  Pulpit  Efforts  —  Disappointed 
Expectations  —  A  'Nf.w  Press  —  The  Paper  Issued 
"Weekly. 

Fresh  with  the  bloom  of  springtime,  when  beauty  smiles 
in  the  valley  and  on  the  mountain,  when  blossoms  whiten 
the  orchards,  and  birds  flit  in  air,  when  the  martin  builds 
her  nest,  when  flowers  distill  their  fragrance  in  the  air,  the 
Golden  Censer  entered  upon  its  second  year  full  of  hope 
and  expectation.  I  select  the  following  brief  extracts  from 
the  flrst  issue  in  Yol.  11. ,  to  illustrate  the  mind  that  guided 
my  pen  editorial  at  that  time: 

"  We  come  telling  the  ever-pleasing  story  of  the  cross, 
the  love  of  a  precious  Saviour;  exhorting  the  indifierent 
to  a  higher  life,  encouraging  the  desponding,  soothing  the 
sorrowing,  gently  and  tenderly  pointing  the  lost  to  the 
Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world; 
preaching  temperance,  righteousness,  and  a  judgment  to 
come;  standing  up  for  the  truth  though  the  heavens  fall; 
denouncing  sin  in  high  places  and  low;  seeking  to  know 
nothing  save  Jesus  and  him  crucified.  Full  of  hope  and 
childlike  trust  in  the  promises  of  Him  who  owns  the  cattle 
on  a  thousand  hills,  we  are  resolved,  if  possible,  to  live 
more  devoted — throw  uur  whole  energy  into  our  life-work. 
We  feel  the  importance  of  our  work;  the  harvest-field  is 
vast,  the  laborers  few,  and  thousands  all  over  the  land  are 
perishing  for  the  want  of  spiritual  food,  that  bread  which 
Cometh  down  from  heaven.  Our  struggle  at  the  throne  of 
trrace  shall  be  for  that  earnestness  which  will  never  falter 


262  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

amid  discouragements — when  the  storm-clouds  hover  darklj 
over  our  pathway.  In  all  this  we  seek  no  honor,  except 
the  approving  smiles  of  heaven.  If  we  are  successful  in 
doing  good,  we  wish  no  applause;  to  God  be  all  the  glory, 
for  we  are  only  an  unprofitable  servant  at  best. 

With  the  experience  of  the  past,  the  cheering  prospects 
of  the  present,  simple  trust  in  the  Master  for  the  future, 
and  the  prayers  of  God's  children,  we  strive  to  press  for- 
ward unto  higher  attainments,  holier  lives,  purer  purposes, 
more  devoted  and  consecrated  energies.  With  these  reso- 
lutions before  us,  we  extend  our  hand  editorial  to  all  our 
patrons  for  another  year,  hoping  that  our  visits  will  be 
profitable.  We  crave  your  sympathy;  being  but  a  mere 
youth,  we  are  more  liable  to  err  than  we  will  when  riper 
years  crown  our  brow.  May  God  bless  our  good  readers, 
and  may  Israel's  tender  Shepherd  lead  you  by  the  fountains 
of  living  waters,  are  our  sincere  prayers." 

The  reader  cannot  fail  to  notice  in  this  extract  that  my 
motives  were  the  same  then  as  now;  that  I  sought  with  all 
my  heart  to  do  good  and  to  bless  my  fellowmen,  and 
doubtless  this  was  one  reason  why  the  Censek  lived  dis- 
pite  my  bitter  enemies — for  enemies  I  had,  and  why  I  had 
them  I  know  not.  Yet,  it  grew  and  was  gaining  favor 
with  God  and  man.  The  local  press,  however,  did  not 
want  the  Censek  to  live,  and  the  editors  of  two  of  the  three 
papers  then  published  in  Rockford  took  it  upon  them- 
selves to  read  me  lectures  through  their  respective  periodi- 
cals. At  first  I  was  scared  and  surelv  thoutrht  I  was  a 
ruined  man,  for  I  believed  the  people  would  credit  the 
malicious  lies.  God,  however,  sometimes  does  use  the 
devil  for  good.  Tlieir  editorials  did  bring  some  more  filthy 
serpents — snakes  in  the  grass — for  they  gave  no  signatures 
to  their  articles — to  the  surface,  but  all  well-meaning  peo- 
ple, especially  those  who  personally  knew  me,  considered 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  263 

the  articles  as  malicious  and   uncalled -for,  and  hence  tbej 
brought  me  friends  and  more  patronao^e. 

Thus,  contrary  to  the  hopes  and  expectations  of  the  over- 
confident, and  those  who  used  their  influence  against  the 
paper,  it  continued  to  survive  their  hatred,  yea,  it  was  per- 
mitted to  behold  the  sprino^ing  flowers  of  another  May,  to 
witness  the  abundance  wherewith  God  has  provided  us,  and 
to  gain  precious  lessons  from  his  bountiful  goodness. 

The  new-born  year  smiled  upon  my  anxious  heart,  and 
cheered  me  with  its  unfolding  charms,  for  who  is  not  made 
o-lad  in  beholdincr  the  flush  of  the  morninoj,  the  orolden  sky 
at  sunset,  the  falling  showers,  the  tree-toj^s  rustling  with 
the  music  of  myriad  leaves  of  gold,  and  emerald,  and 
crimson,  the  meadows  rejoicing  in  multitudes  of  blooming 
flowers,  and  the  valleys  singing  praises  in  the  far-stretch- 
ing fields  of  waving  grain  when  the  balmy  winds,  wafted 
from  the  orange  groves  of  the  South,  kiss  our  lips  and  fan 
our  brows;  when  the  mountain  rills  sing  for  joy,  in  short, 
when  all  nature  pours  upon  us  a  perpetual  tide  of  blessing, 
in  obedience  to  the  command  of  unstinted  beneficence? 

Ah,  good  reader,  when  we  reflect  that  God  crowns  every 
season  with  his  goodness,  should  we  not  come  to  him  with 
glowing  hearts,  bounding  hopes,  and  confiding  trust?  Oh, 
can  we  live  and  receive  all  these  blessings  at  the  hands  of 
a  kind  and  merciful  God,  and  still  be  ungrateful?  Then 
let  our  hearts  break  forth  in  admiration  and  praise  to  our 
Father  in  heaven.  And  if  our  springtime  down  in  this 
world  of  cold,  dreary  storms  has  such  attractions,  such 
beauties,  what  will  it  be  on  the  other  shore,  where  eternal 
spring  with  its  vernal  fields,  flowing  rivers  of  living  waters, 
with  its  summer  sheen  and  cloudless  skies,  is  ever  in  bloom, 
and  where  beauty  never  fades? 

However,  I  found  it  harder  to  sustain  myself  the  sedond 
year  than  the  first.  I  used  the  "  credit  system,"  that  is, 
I  sent  the  paper   as  long  as  it  was  taken   from  the  office. 


264  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Hence  all  whu  failed  to  send  iu  their  renewals  I  was  carry- 
ing, and  they  served  only  as  dead  weights.  But  I  hoped 
on,  and  trusted  thev  wo^ild  remember  the  Censer. 

To  give  the  young  reader  an  idea  how  I  hung  on  when 
discouragements  pressed  me  on  every  hand,  I  will  here  re- 
late an  incident  which  illustrates  the  invincible  pluck  which 
only  saved  the  Censer  from  an  untimely  grave.  A  gentle- 
man living  in  Beloit,  Wis.,  held  a  note  of  $10.00  against 
a  farmer  living  three  miles  west  of  Harrison,  111.,  which 
lie  sent  me,  saying,  if  I  would  collect  it,  I  could  appropri- 
ate it  on  the  paper.  Accordingly,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
man  in  Harrison.  But  no  reply  came.  I  wrote  a  second 
time,  and  no  reply  was  made.  So  I  let  the  matter  drop  for 
a  time.  But  through  harvest  my  receipts  on  the  paper 
were  so  liorht  that  I  knew  not  how  to  meet  mv  bills.  I 
thought  of  that  note.  It  would  help  me  a  little  if  I  only 
had  the  money.  So  I  set  out  on  foot  under  the  noonday 
sun  of  an  August  day,  and  traveled  over  the  dusty  way 
nineteen  miles,  to  collect  the  money.  I  was  successful,  re- 
ceiving fifty  cents  additional  as  interest.  This  greatly 
cheered  me,  and  with  a  stronger  heart  I  returned  to  Hock- 
ford,  and  the  paper  was  saved  a  little  longer. 

But  there  is  no  success  without  effort,  and  if  hard,  per- 
severing toil  would  bring  success,  the  Censer  would  yet 
be  a  success.  I  fully  understood  that  many  a  brave  boy 
had  come  up  through  great  discouragements  and  perplex- 
ities, and  I  was  not  going  to  give  it  up.  History  is  full  of 
men  who  bent  circumstances  to  their  condition,  and  sur- 
niounted  every  obstacle.  When  I  look  at  Johnson,  poring 
over  words;  or  Kitto,  spelling  out  his  Greek  and  Hebrew; 
or  Goldsmith,  bearing  his  literary  attempts  from  publisher 
to  publisher;  or  Joseph  Hume,  during  his  years  of  par- 
liamentary persecution;  or  Cobden,  in  the  free-trade  con- 
flict; or  Faraday,  washing  bottles  and  retorts;  or  Stephen- 
son, mending  the  men's  watches,  and  enjoying  his  herring 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  265 

under  a  hedge — I  can  but  be  reminded  of  the  words  of  Sir 
Fowell  Buxton,  and  find  myself  compelled  to  subscribe 
to  them :  "The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  am  certain  that 
the  great  difierence  between  men,  between  the  feeble  and 
the  powerful,  the  great  and  the  insignificant,  is  energy — 
invincible  determination — a  purpose  once  fixed,  and  then 
death  or  victory.  That  quality  will  do  anything  that  can 
be  done  in  the  world,  and  no  talents,  no  circumstances,  no 
opportunities,  will  make  a  two-legged  creature  a  man  with- 
out it."  The  fact  is,  nothing  can  be  done  without  labor. 
Poets,  they  say,  must  be  born  poets,  and  the  same  holds 
good  with  mathematicians  and  lawyers;  but  we  may  be 
quite  sure  Milton  did  not  write  ''Paradise  Lost,"  Black- 
stone  his  "  Commentary,"  or  Newton  his  "  Principia," 
without  intense  study.  Michael  Faraday  learned  some- 
thing of  chemistry  over  his  bottle-cleaning;  George  Stephen- 
son something  of  mechanics  OA'er  his  clocks;  and  Elihu 
Burrit  something  of  languages  over  his  anvil;  but  neither 
would  have  reached  eminence  without  prodigious  labor. 
Let  every  young  man  take  it  for  granted  little  can  be  done 
without  it.  Csesar,  we  are  told,  studied  in  a  camp,  and 
swam  rivers  holdino^  his  "Commentaries"  out  of  the  water 
with  his  hand.  Alfred,  King  of  England,  Frederick  the 
Great,  and  Kapoleon,  though  guiding  empires,  found  time 
to  converse  with  books. 

!N^ewton  was  in  his  eighty -fifth  year  when  he  improved 
his  "Chronology;"  Waller  wrote  poetry  at  eighty-two; 
and  the  present  Earl  of  Derby,  when  long  past  sixty,  could 
translate  Homer  to  relieve  the  tediousness  of  a  sick  room 
Whitfield,  during  a  ministry  of  thirty-four  years,  preached 
upwards  of  18,000  sermons,  and  traveled  many  thousands 
of  miles.  It  is  said  that  when  he  found  his  powers  failing 
him,  this  great  man  undertook  to  put  himself  upon  "short 
allowance,"  and  that  was  to  preach  only  once  every  day  in 
the  week,  and  three  times  on  Sunday  I     For  more  than  fifty 


266  AL'TOHKHJKAIMIV. 

years  John  AVej^Iey  delivered  two,  and  freqnently  three, 
sermons  a  day,  and  preached  during  that  time  more  than 
40,000  sermons.  He  traveled  about  4,500  miles  everv  vear 
on  the  average,  and  so,  during  his  ministry,  he  could  not 
have  passed  over  less  than  225,000  miles  in  pursuit  of  his 
Master's  work. 

Every  young  man  should  cultivate  habits  of  industry, 
before  he  loses  the  power  by  contact  with  the  worthless 
and  the  impure.  A  little  time  in  pleasure,  and  a  little 
more  money  in  books,  would  not  deprive  you  of  much 
enjoyment,  and  might  confer  upon  you  much  profit.  Leave 
off  dreaminof  and  set  to  work;  one  hour  everv  ni^^cht  after 
business  would  be  more  than  two  whole  days  a  month,  and 
enough  to  accomplish  feats  of  learning.  All  have  the 
chance;  they  only  want  the  inclination.  A  little  time, like 
a  little  money,  if  expected  to  be  serviceable,  mus*:  be  laid 
out  well.  We  are  not  all  born  with  a  genius,  but  we  each 
have  faculties,  and  without  sighing  for  what  we  have  not, 
let  us  make  the  best  use  of  what  we  have.  At  the  same 
time,  when  we  find  out  for  what  we  are  intended,  we  must 
take  care  we  do  not  go  beyond  it;  and  as  Sidney  Smith 
says:  " If  Providence  only  meant  us  to  write  posies  for 
rings,  and  mottoes  for  twelfth  cakes,  let  us  keep  to  posies 
and  mottoes.  A  good  motto  for  a  twelfth  cake  is  more 
respectable  than  a  wretched  epic  in  twelve  books."  It  is 
when  people  get  out  of  their  depth  that  they  become  laugh- 
able— not  before;  and  so  it  is  wise  for  a  young  man  to  talk 
of  nothing  but  the  flavor  of  a  cigar  and  the  tie  of  a  cravat, 
if  his  studies  have  gone  no  deeper.  "If  there  be  one  thing 
on  earth  which  is  truly  admirable,''  said  Dr.  Arnold,  "  it 
is  to  see  God's  wisdom  blessing  an  inferiority  of  natural 
powers,  where  they  have  been  honestly,  truly,  and  zealously 
cultivated." 

Above  all  things,  my  young  men  rea<k'rs,  forget  not  the 
words  of  the  wise  man:  "The  fear  «>f  the  Lord  is  the  be- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  267 

ginning  of  wisdom,"  and  in  acquiring  the  wisdom  of  this 
world,  neglect  not  the  things  pertaining  to  that  which  is 
to  come.  Yon  are  men  of  business — be  Christian  men  of 
business.  The  thing  is  quite  possible.  Daniel  was  the 
prime  minister  of  Persia,  and  had  to  manage  the  affairs  of 
a  hundred  and  twenty  provinces,  and  yet  he  could  find  time 
to  ofo  into  his  chamber  three  times  a  dav,  that  he  mio-ht 
pray  and  give  thanks  to  God.  Alfred  the  Great,  ^lartin 
Luther,  John  Thornton,  William  AVilberforce,  and  Fowell 
Buxton  were  all  men  of  business,  and  yet  they  were  all 
men  of  God.  And  so  should  it  be  with  every  young  man 
who  pretends  to  true  wisdom.  Among  your  studies  let 
one  book  have  your  attention — the  Bible;  that  old  book, 
which  in  spite  of  infidelity,  has  stood  its  ground  for  cen- 
turies. 

I  often  think  how  little  we  use  life  thoroughly;  how  little 
we  really  live  our  life;  how  seldom  we  are  in  the  humor  to 
carry  out  its  great  and  solemn  purposes;  how  we  let  its 
opportunities  fly  by  us,  like  thistle-down  on  the  wind.  Why 
are  we  not  always  denying  ourselves,  taking  up  the  cross 
and  following  the  Master?  Why  are  we  not  always  on  the 
watch  for  every  occasion  in  which  a  word  may  be  said,  or 
a  deed  done,  or  a  thought  thought,  that  shall  be  a  protest 
for  Christ,  in  the  vain  and  sinful  world?  Why  is  God's 
love  but  a  rare,  wintry  gleam,  and  never  a  steady  summer 
in  our  souls? 

Actuated  by  such  examples,  I  held  to  my  task,  and  was 
permitted  to  close  Yol.  II.  But,  financially,  it  was  a  fail- 
ure. It  was  a  hard  year  with  me,  I  had  met  with  severe 
losses,  and  was  beset  with  rare  discouragements,  and  in  the 
m.idst  of  these  disasters,  I  felt  more  than  once  like  sitting 
down  and  saying,  it  is  of  no  use:  I  never  can  make  the 
Censer  a  success.  But  success  is  not  always  counted  by 
dollars  and  cents.  It  might  have  been  much  worse.  Even 
wealthy  corporations   sometimes  fail,  and,  in  this  respect, 


208  AUTOBIOGKAI'lIV. 

the  Censer  was  ahead  of  them,  for  it  was  not  a  failure.  I 
had  paid  all  its  debts,  if  I  did  have  to  do  without  the  needed 
clothing  in  order  to  meet  mv  oblio^ations,  for  I  had  rather 
wear  patched  pants  and  coat,  and  honestly  look  men  in  the 
face,  than  to  appear  in  fine  clothes  and  owe  everybody. 

But  let  me  pause  here  and  bring  up  another  thread  of 
my  sketch.  In  the  autumn  of  1868,  I  was  licensed  by  the 
church  to  preach.  The  Rev.  Samuel  Gates,  of  Belvidere, 
111.,  gave  me  the  first  invitation  to.  preach  in  his  pulpit. 
As  a  matter  of  course  I  took  great  care  in  the  preparation 
of  my  sermons.  I  wrote  them  out  carefully,  revised  and 
trimmed  them  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and,  with  the  two 
in  my  pocket,  I  started  for  Belvidere.  The  Sabbath  was 
to  be  an  eventful  day.  I  kept  praying  that  I  might  not 
make  a  failure,  yet  the  thought  that  there  was  a  possibility, 
made  me  feel  verv  uncomfortable — but  I  continued  raisinj' 
my  heart  in  silent  prayer.  At  length  the  Sabbath  dawned. 
It  was  a  beautiful  September  day.  I  wanted  to  retire  for 
secret  prayer,  but  could  find  no  place.  So  I  went  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  entered  a  large  corn-field,  and  there, 
away  from  the  world,  I  bowed  in  prayer  for  strength  and 
success.  While  thus  communing  with  God,  the  church- 
bell  sounded  through  the  air,  my  heart  fluttered,  and  my 
mind  became  more  depressed.  I  felt  it  was  a  solemn  thing 
to  preach  the  gospel.  I  arose,  and  went  to  the  church, 
entered  the  pulpit  and  opened  the  services.  The  Spirit 
was  witli  me,  and,  though  I  read  my  sermon,  yet  I  had 
great  liberty,  and  preached  with  satisfaction,  at  least  to 
myself.  When  I  sat  down  I  felt  quite  confident  the  people 
were  not  disappointed  in  me.  Something  kept  saying  in 
my  heart.  You  did  well,  John.  But  there  was  no  vanity 
in  this.  Indeed,  in  the  hundreds  of  sermons  since 
preached,  I  never  could  feel  proud  over  even  the  best  of 
my  pulpit  efforts,  for  I  felt  that  I  was  but  a  poor  worm  of 
the  dust,  and  but  for  God's  grace  the  meanest. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  269 

To  return.  My  writing  was  in  a  condensed  style  and  in 
a  small  letter  and  in  tlie  preparation  of  my  evening's  sermon 
in  my  study,  I  did  not  anticipate  lanip-liglits,  nor  the  trial 
before  me.  However,  when  the  hour  arrived,  and,  after 
the  preliminary  services,  I  announced  my  text,  and  started 
off,  as  I  had  done  in  the  morning,  by  reading.  Bur,  oh, 
such  light!  1  looked,  I  strained  my  eyes,  I  crouched  down 
nearer  my  manuscript,  I  hesitated,  I  mispronounced  my 
words,  I  stumbled,  I  began  to  sweat,  great  drops  stood  on 
my  forehead,  my  clothes  were  wet  with  perspiration,  the 
good  people  saw  my  embarrassment,  and,  doubtless,  pitied 
me,  the  young  folks  snickered,  and  knowing  ones  wagged 
their  heads.  I  was  the  smallest  man  in  all  God's  creation, 
and  if  there  had  been  a  knot-hole  in  the  floor  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  have  gone  through  it.  But  there  was  no  such  easy 
escape.  There  I  was — all  alone.  The  minister  absent,  and 
no  one  to  take  my  place.  To  sit  down  would  have  been  a 
disgrace  from  which  I  could  never  have  recovered.  What 
could  I  do!  I  gave  my  sermon  a  fling  back  to  the  sofa, 
gathered  up  my  presence  of  mind,  recalled  the  general 
heads  of  my  discourse,  and,  silently  pleading  for  wisdom, 
I  rallied.  My  lips  were  unsealed;  somehow  I  grew  strangely 
eloquent,  my  voice  was  astonishing  to  my  own  ears,  and 
such  a  sermon  as  I  there  preached,  I  never  have  had  the 
privilege  to  surpass.  For  months  after  I  griev^ed  over  this 
unpleasant  circumstance.  However,  it  forever  broke  me 
of  reading  my  sermons.  I  have  read  but  two  sermons 
since  that  day — one  in  New  Milford,  and  one  in  Rockton. 
Thus  opened  my  ministerial  labors,  and  Belvidere  has  the 
honor — if  honor  it  is — of  listening  to  my  first  efforts. 

After  this,  for  the  next  two  years,  in  addition  to  my  ofiice 
labor,  both  editorial  and  otherwise,  I  preached  nearly  every 
Sunday,  and  sometimes  two  and  three  times  on  the  Sab- 
bath. There  is  scarcely  a  church  from  Lena  on  the  west  to 
Chicago  on  the  east  but  what  I  have  preached  in. 


270  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

One  day  a  good  brotiier  called  on  me  and  wanted  me  to 
preach  down  in  liis  cliurcli — only  eight  miles  from  Rock- 
ford.  I  agreed  to  go,  and,  acconlinglv,  on  Saturday  even- 
ing, after  the  labors  in  the  office  were  completed,  I  set  out 
on  foot  and  alone,  expecting  to  be  overtaken  by  some  team 
going  that  way  which  would  give  me  a  ride.  In  this  I 
was  not  disappointed,  and  reached  the  neighborhood  about 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  As  I  was  a  stranger,  I 
thought  I  would  call  on  the  man  who  invited  me  to  preach. 
Going  to  the  house,  I  knocked.  The  door  was  opened.  I 
asked  if  I  could  stay  for  the  night.  The  lady  thought  not. 
I  then  asked  how  far  it  was  to  the  next  house.  She  said  it 
was  over  half  a  mile  to  any  house  where  they  would  be 
likely  to  keep  me.  I  then  asked  her  again  if  they  could 
not  keep  me  for  the  night,  assuring  her  that  a  lounge  or 
carpet  would  satisfy  me.  She  looked  toward  her  husband 
who  by  this  time  had  come  to  the  door.  He  said  that  the 
main  part  of  the  building  was  new  and  had  just  been  plas- 
tered, and  did  not  dare  to  make  up  a  bed  in  any  of  the 
rooms  as  there  was  o:reat  danorer  of  takincr  a  severe  cold.  I 
replied  that  I  was  very  careful  of  my  health  and  did  not 
wish  to  expose  myself  to  danger,  and  asked  how  far  it  was 
to  Mr.  Burk's  house.  Upon  my  giving  this  name,  the  man 
opened  the  door  wide  so  that  the  light  fell  full  into  my 
face,  and  then  recognized  me.  Covered  with  mortification 
and  making  all  kinds  of  apologies,  he  bid  me  come  in — the 
fire  was  replenished — a  bounteous  supper  was  soon  ready 
— a  comfortable  bed  was  in  readiness  against  the  hour  of 
retiring,  and  I  never  found  more  hospitable  people  in  jvll 
my  travels.  I  preached  the  next  day,  and  was  assured  by 
my  host  that  he  had  never  listened  to  a  sermon  which 
brought  such  conviction,  though  I  took  no  advantage  of  the 
circumstance  of  the  preceding  evening. 

At  another  time  I  wa.'^  invited  to  another  place  to  preach. 
I  withhold    names  out  of  regard  for   my  friends,    as    the 


•  PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  271 

Censer  is  largely  circulated  in  the  places  about  wliicli  I 
write.  I  accepted  and  went.  I  stopped  at  the  residence  of 
a  local  preacher — a  saintly  man.  In  the  evening  he  invited 
rae  to  go  down  town  with  him  and  he  would  introduce  me 
to  some  of  the  brethren  who  desired  to -look  upon  the  face 
of  the  Censer  editor.  I  complied,  and  was  introduced  to 
one  and  another.  Having  made  several  purchases,  he  was 
about  to  return.  I  followed  him  out  of  the  store,  when  he 
remembered  another  article  needed,  and  returned  to  pur- 
chase it.  I  remained  on  the  sidewalk,  and  just  one  side  Of 
the  door,  out  of  the  observation  of  those  within.  Xow, 
all  who  have  seen  the  writer  know  that  he  is  not  very  large; 
and,  in  those  days  was  beardless,  and  had  a  boylike  appear- 
ance. Fancy  then  my  astonishment,  when  heads  crowded 
together  and  eagerly  asked  of  my  local  brother,  ""What! 
is  that  the  editor  of  the  Censer?  Why  he  don't  look  as  if 
he  knew  enough  to  say  boo!  He  will  disappoint  the  con- 
gregation to-morrow!  We  made  a  mistake  in  getting  that 
boy  here!  TTe  are  in  for  it.  Why,  we  supposed  we  were 
going  to  have  somebody."  Our  local  brother  quietly  told 
them  to  come  out  and  hear  me. 

All  of  the  above  conversation  was  not  intended  for  my 
ears,  as  a  matter  of  course:  Our  local  brother  having  re- 
turned to  the  side- walk,  we  started  for  his  home,  he  never 
intimatinor  the  nature  of  the  conversation,  nor  I  to  him 
that  I  had  unintentionally  overheard  it. 

But  the  Sabbath  came.  As  the  Sabbath-school  was  held 
at  nine  o'clock,  in  company  with  the  local  preacher  I  at- 
tended. Durino^  nearlv  the  whole  session  an  excellent 
brother,  a  leading  member,  took  it  upon  himself  to  lecture 
me,  telling  me  of  the  intelligence  of  the  congregation,  of 
the  culture  of  their  pastor,  of  the  pulpit  efforts,  and  that 
I  would  not  meet  the  expectation  of  the  people  if  I  dis- 
played any  vanity  or  ignorance.  This,  and  what  I  had 
beard  the  evening  before,  made  me  feel  uncomfortable,  and 


272  AUTOBIOGKAl'IIY. 

I  began  to  wish  I  was  at  home.  However,  I  thanked  the 
brother  for  his  timely  warning  and  snggestions.  AYith 
these  things  on  m}'  mind,  I  entered  the  pulpit,  opened  the 
services,  and  preached  my  sermon.  Whether  poor  or  other- 
wise, I  could  see  that  the  congregation  was  not  disappointed. 
When  I  came  down  I  was  almost  thronged  with  hearty 
hand-shaking  and  congratulations.  But  then  all  the  dif- 
ference was  between  a  success  and  a  failure,  and  not  so 
much  because  of  the  unpretending  youth  before  them. 

At  another  time  I  had  an  appointment  at  a  school-house. 
The  Sabbath-school  held  its  session  before  preaching.  I 
was  expected  to  preach.  They  had  heard  of  the  editor  of 
the  Censer,  and  expected  some  great  personage.  In  the 
meantime  I  had  entered  the  room,  but  no  one  suspected 
the  unassuming  young  man  sitting  by  the  stove  as  the  ex- 
pected editor  preacher.  School  closed,  and  one  and  another 
were  asking  whether  the  expected  preacher  had  arrived. 
No  one  knew  whether  he  had  or  not.  And  then,  as  is 
usual  in  some  places,  I  received  some  compliments  which 
were  not  intended  fur  my  ears.  Of  course  1  looked  se- 
rious, and  at  a  crack  in  the  stove,  in  order  to  keep  my  face 
straiirht.  As  soon  as  the  tumult  subsided  and  the  room 
became  quiet,  I  took  ray  seat  in  the  desk,  and  I  never  saw 
such  an  astonished  and  confounded  congregation  in  my 
life.  But  the  preacher  met  their  expectations,  and  after 
the  sermon  the  good  people  crowded  around  me,  and  begged 
that  I  should  not  remember  their  remarks  against  them. 
All  of  which  I  took  as  a  good  pleasantry. 

Had  I  space,  and  were  it  interesting,  I  could  give  many 
incidents  similar  to  the  above.  But  these  must  serve. 
There  certainly  is  a  lesson  in  each  one  of  them.  Yet,  poor 
human  nature,  we  have  to  watch  these  tongues  and  these 
actions  of  ours  all  the  time.  They  certainly  had  a  good 
effect  upon  me.  Doubtless  other  ministers  could  give  a 
similar  experience. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  278 

"While  I  am  giving  my  experience  in  the  ministry,  to 
make  this  a  complete  autobiography,  it  may  not  be  out  of  the 
way  to  give  place  to  one  of  the  many  discourses  delivered, 
which  T  do,  selecting  the  following: 

Text:      Refrain  thy  voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes  from  tears, 
for  thy  work  shall  be  rewarded,  saith  the  Lord. — Jeremiah,  xxxi,  16. 

The  chosen  people  of  God  were  at  this  time  in  Baby- 
lonish captivity,  far  away  from  their  native  land  and  the 
associations  of  childhood  and  endearments  of  friends. 
While  in  the  valley  of  the  Euphrates,  five  hundred  miles 
from  the  Holy  City,  many  gloomy  thoughts  and  desponding 
fears  filled  their  weary  hearts  as  they  reflected  on  their 
hopeless  servitude  in  a  foreign  land.  After  laboring  hard 
through  the  day  under  the  cruel  lash  of  the  task-master 
and  a  burning  sun,  at  evening,  when  the  bustle  and  tumult 
of  the  city  was  hushed,  the  orb  of  da}^  had  descended  be- 
hind the  western  hills,  and  the  quiet  of  twilight  was  hover- 
ing over  the  earth,  the  Israelites  were  wont  to  retire  to  the 
verdant  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  without  the  city  walls, 
where  they  could  worship  God  in  the  beauty  of  holiness. 
The  Hebrews  had  psalms  w^hich  surpassed  those  of  all  the 
heathen  nations  around  them  in  melody  and  sweetness,  and, 
indeed,  they  cannot  be  equaled  by  the  productions  of  the 
present  day.  But  their  hearts  were  too  sad  for  music. 
Hanging  their  harps  upon  the  willows  that  grew  along  the 
river's  bank,  they  cast  their  weeping  eyes  over  the  dark 
purple  waters  of  the  swollen  stream  toward  their  dear  na- 
tive land.  While  thus  sighing  with  broken  hearts  over 
their  unhappy  lot,  the  natives,  with  insulting  taunts,  press 
ed  them  to  sing  some  of  the  sweet  songs  of  Zion,  thus  mak 
ing  them  feel  more  keenly,  if  possible,  the  anguish  of  their 
souls. 

The  Jews,  prior  to  their  captivity,  were  prosperous  in 
all  their  pursuits.     Their  fields  glowed  with  golden  har- 
vests, and  the  vines  hung  heavy  with  the  purple  clusters. 
IS 


274  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

"While  iu  the  full  enjoyment  ef  the  bounties  of  their  bene- 
ficent Creator,  they  forgot  God  and  gave  themselves  up  to 
idolatry  and  the  lusts  of  their  own  evil  hearts.  They  had 
forirotten  how  the  Lord  brouo^ht  them  up  out  of  the  land 
of  Egypt  with  a  strong  arm  and  established  them  in  the 
promised  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey,  and  how  he 
had  made  them  a  mighty  people — a  terror  to  surrounding 
nations.  They  had  discarded  the  warnings  of  Jehovah  and 
stoned  the  prophets  sent  of  the  Most  High  to  warn  them 
of  their  impending  fate.  Although  they  had  been  the  sub- 
jects of  God's  especial  favor,  yet  his  unwavering  adherence 
to  justice  suffered  them  to  be  carried  away  into  bondage 
that  they  might  repent  of  their  folly  in  servitude,  where 
we  find  them  with  penitent  hearts  and  eyes  suffused  with 
bitter  tears.  lN"or  are  their  sobbings  unheard,  for  God, 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  loving  Father,  says,  '-Eefrain  thy 
voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes  from  tears,  for  thy 
work  shall  be  rewarded,  saith  the  Lord.'' 

We  learn,  then,  in  the  first  place,  that  God's  retributive 
justice  will  overtake  those  forgetful  of  his  benevolence  and 
loving-kindness.  Seated  on  his  throne  in  heaven  and  look- 
ing do^\Tl  upon  the  kingdoms  of  this  world,  he  knows  no 
nationality,  nor  does  he  display  especial  regard  for  one  class 
of  persons  to  the  neglect  of  another.  And,  secondly,  God 
will  hear  the  prayers  of  the  true  penitent  and  avenge  the 
oppressed. 

1.  We  may  observe  that  the  Lord  is  very  kind  to  all  his 
created  intelligences,  showering  upon  them  blessings  with 
an  unsparing  hand.  He  sends  the  gentle  rains  to  refresh 
the  parched  earth  and  to  revive  the  wilted  and  drooping 
crops.  He  causes  the  sun  to  shine  that  it  may  mature  the 
coming  harvest.  He  spreads  before  us  tokens  of  his  re- 
gard for  which  we  never  thank  him.  Among  these  are 
life,  the  air  we  breath,  health,  kind  friends,  the  products 
of  foreign  lands  which  aftord  us  so  many  table  luxuries, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  2<0 

the  changes  of  the  seasons  with  their  varied  atmosphere, 
the  merry  songs  of  birds,  the  sweet  fragrance  of  flowers  to 
cheer  our  drooping  spirits,  the  clothes  we  wear,  comforta- 
ble homes  to  shelter  us  from  the  winter  storms,  light  of 
day  in  which  to  execute  our  purposes,  shades  of  night  that 
we  may  repose  our  wearied  limbs, — these  and  numerous 
other  expressions  of  God's  kindness  towards  us,  are  taken  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  hence  we  never  thank  him  for 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  we  receive  his  bounties,  accum- 
ulate wealth,  build  houses  and  barns  and  fill  them  with 
treasures  as  if  earth  was  our  eternal  habitation;  find  fault 
if  the  ways  of  Providence  do  not  coincide  with  ours;  we 
feast  at  sumptuous  tables  while  Lazarus,  all  wounded  and 
bruised,  lays  at  our  gate  asking  in  vain  for  the  crumbs  that 
fall  from  our  tables;  we  ride  in  carriages,  gratify  our  van- 
ity in  useless  ornaments  and  expensive  dress,  cultivate  a 
proud  and  haughty  spirit,  oppress  the  poor,  despise  the  ad- 
monitions of  a  tender  conscience,  reject  the  counsels  and 
warnings  of  *the  messenger  of  God,  cling  to  the  vain  delu- 
sions of  a  transitory  life,  reveling  as  it  were  over  the  reek- 
ing fumes  of  the  grave's*  foul  breath. 

It  is  not  reasonable  to  suppose,  while  God  is  thus  benefi- 
cent on  the  one  hand  and  men  ungrateful  and  extremely 
selfish  on  the  other,  that  he  is  not  grieved  and  wounded  in 
heart.  Although  prosj)erity  may  crown  our  eiforts  for  a 
season,  and  the  Creator  exercise  his  patience  and  forbear- 
ance, yet  be  not  deceived,  God  is  not  mocked — sooner  or 
later  he  will  pour  out  the  wrath  of  his  indignation  and 
whirl  his  shafts  of  justice  at  our  proud  and  selfish  hearts. 
Jesus,  while  on  earth,  told  us  to  seek  first  the  kino-dom  of 
heaven  and  his  righteousness  and  all  things  else  needful 
would  be  added  unto  us.  But  our  lives  practically  say, 
"  "We  will  first  seek  the  vain  and  transitory  things  of  this 
world,  and  then,  if  we  have  time  or  inclination,  the 
things  that  pertain  to  our  soul's  salvation."     God  did  not 


276  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

create  and  place  us  in  this  world  of  natural  beauty  for  the 
Bake  of  having  us  lay  up  our  treasures  where  moth  and 
rust  doth  corrupt  and  thieves  break  through  and  steal,  but 
to  honor  his  name  and  prepare  ourselves  for  eternity.  It 
is  the  neglect  of  these  duties  which  bring  upon  us  all  our 
woes  and  afflictions.  The  Lord  knows  what  is  for  our 
hisrhest  erood,  hence,  wh-en  he  sees  us  bowed  down  to  idols 
and  the  pursuits  of  this  world,  he  comes  to  us  in  tribulation 
and  sorrow — he  cuts  off  our  friends  and  plants  them  on  the 
eternal  shore  for  the  jiurpose  that  we  might  lift  our  eyes 
from  the  associations  of  earth  to  those  of  heaven — he  suf- 
fers calamities  to  come  upon  us  that  we  might  learn  our 
dependence  upon  his  Almighty  arm  for  support — he  re- 
moves our  property  to  humble  our  pride  and  to  show  us 
the  uncertainties  of  temporal  possessions — he  prostrates 
our  vigorous  bodies  upon  couches  of  sickness  to  remind  us 
that  the  bloom  and  beautv  of  vouth  is  liable  to  wither  and 
fade  and  our  physical  frames  subject  to  decay.  God  does 
not  send  these  misfortunes  to  revenge  his  slighted  mercies, 
but  simply  to  teach  us  the  lesson  of  humility  which  we 
ouo^ht  to  have  learned  without  them.  Thus  when  the  Lord 
sees  us  down  by  the  river  bank  of  humility,  as  were  the 
Hebrew  captives,  weeping  with  penitential  tears  over  our 
sins,  and  entreating  to  return  to  his  f^ivor,  he  comes  to  us 
with  the  tenderness  of  parental  affection,  pouring  the  oil  of 
consolation  into  our  wounded  spirits,  and  whispers  in  our 
longing  ears  in  tones  sweeter  than  honey  or  the  honey- 
comb, "  Refrain  thy  voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes 
from  tears." 

The  Creator  is  a  beneficent  Being,  who  has  given  us 
these  faculties  of  the  soul  and  intellect,  not  to  prostitute 
them  to  base  and  ignoble  purposes,  but  to  employ  them  to 
reclaim  the  world  from  sin  and  the  power  of  hell.  Ah! 
dying  mortal,  have  you  ever  asked,  "  Wliat  will  all  the 
pleasure,  folly,  vanity,  sin,  riches,  or  wisdom  of  this  world 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIOXS.  277 

avail  a  rebel  sinner  in  that  a^vful  day?"  What  can  the 
devil  then  do  for  his  victims?  Where  will  he  and  thej  be 
through  all  eternity?  Oh!  the  anguish  of  such  a  thought. 
In  that  awful  day  the  wicked  will  cry  unto  the  rocks  and 
mountains  to  fall  on  them  and  hide  them  from  the  face  of 
Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of 
the  Lamb — rejected  and  despised  upon  earth — tor  the  great 
day  of  his  wrath  shall  have  come,  and  who  shall  be  able  to 
withstand?  Oh  I  the  bitter  sting  of  sin.  Well  might  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  exclaim,  "Oh!  that  my  head  were  water 
and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day 
and  night  for  the  blindness  and  sins  of  my  people!  !Mine 
eyes  run  down  with  rivers  of  water!  Astonishment  hath 
taken  hold  of  me!  Oh!  that  I  had  in  the  wilderness  a 
lodging-place!     Be  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at  this!     See, 

0  Lord,  and  consider  my  affliction!" 

Says  one,  "I  would  gladly  spend  all  my  time  and  means, 
if  I  only  had  the  ability  and  knew  how  to  direct  my  ener- 
gies." To  such  an  inquirer  we  reply:  In  the  name  of 
God  and  common  sense,  do  not  let  the  devil  deceive  you 
lonorer  while  the  world  around  vou  is  writhinor  in  sin  and 
bleeding  at  every  pore  under  the  galling  fetters  of  hell.  If 

1  were  to  tell  around  your  neighborhood  that  you  were  de- 
ficient in  common  sense,  you  would  arraign  me  before  a 
court  of  justice  before  the  going  down  of  to-morrow's  sun, 
for  slander.  But  you  yourself  say  before  God's  people  you 
have  no  abilities  to  do  kind  offices  for  the  Prince  of  Peace. 
Behold  the  great  harvest-field  of  the  world  all  white  for 
the  reaper.  Thrust  in  the  sickle  and  gather  the  sheaves 
into  the  granary  of  the  Lord.  Look  around  you  on  every 
hand  and  you  will  see  the  poor  to  be  relieved,  the  orphan 
to  be  cared  for,  the  widow  in  her  sad  and  disconsolate  con- 
dition to  be  comforted,  the  homeless  little  wanderers  in 
this  cold  world  of  selfishness  tr>  be  clothed  and  fed,  the  out- 
cast and   erring  to  be  reclaimed,  noisome  dungeons  and 


278  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

prisons  to  be  visited,  to  administer  kindly  offices  to  those 
wasting  and  pining  away  in  filtliy  cells,  in  short,  to  com- 
municiite  happiness  throughout  all  the  ranks  of  our  fellow- 
men  with  whom  we  mingle,  to  sooth  the  disconsolate  and 
the  desponding,  to  relieve  the  distressed,  to  instruct  the 
ignorant,  to  expand  the  intellect,  to  animate  and  direct  the 
benevolent  affections,  to  increase  the  enjoj^ments  of  the 
lower  orders  of  the  community,  to  direct  the  opening  minds 
of  the  young,  to  lead  the  froward  by  gentle  steps  into  the 
paths  of  wisdom  and  holiness,  to  administer  to  the  wants  of 
the  wayfaring  man,  and  to  promote  every  scheme  which 
has  the  grand  object  in  view  of  ameliorating  the  sufferings 
of  humanitv  and  advancinc^  the  Hedeemer's  kino^dom.  God 
has  given  this  glorious  work  into  our  hands,  that,  after  we 
have  been  co-laborers  in  saving  the  world  from  sin,  we 
might  enjoy  the  reward  he  has  in  store  for  those  that  love 
and  honor  his  cause.  Then  weep  not,  my  hearers,  over 
the  perishing  things  of  this  life,  but  rather  weep  over  our 
young  men  and  women  who  are  pressing  forward  to  the 
grave  without  a  single  hope  of  a  future  life,  weep  over 
those  whom  intemperance  has  bound  with  its  cruel  fetters 
and  is  dragging  down  so  many  thousands  of  our  noblest 
youth  to  an  untimely  and  a  drunkard's  grave,  weep  over 
those  whom  the  evil  genius  of  vice  has  decoyed  and  led 
from  the  path  of  virtue.  Oh!  fathers,  weep  over  your  way- 
ward sons  that  they  might  return  and  save  their  feet  from 
the  snares  of  ruin.  Oh!  mothers,  weep  over  your  lovely 
daughters,  who,  through  misgivings,  are  still  rejecting  the 
dear  Saviour — the  friend  of  sinners — who  left  the  glories  of 
the  sky,  coming  forth  from  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  made 
bare  his  own  breast  to  receive  the  wounds  from  the  shafts 
of  justice  which  were  directed  against  our  own  guilty  lives; 
Oh!  weep  over  the  nations  in  foreign  lands  and  the  islands 
of  the  ocean,  who  are  groping  in  heathen  darkness  bowing 
down   to  the  devices  of  their   own    hands.     Then,    when 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIOXS.  279 

brotherly  love  shall  flow  in  full  fniition,  when  the  star 
which  arose  over  Bethlehem's  plains  shall  shine  in  his  full 
luster,  when  sin  shall  have  received  its  mortal  wound,  when 
all  nations,  tribes,  kindred,  and  tongues  on  this  terraque- 
ous globe  shall  lift  their  voices  in  praise,  and  shall  join  the 
sacramental  hosts  of  the  elect,  when  the  golden  banner  of 
the  gospel  shall  wave  on  every  breeze,  and  the  cross  of 
Christ  be  upborne  by  millions  of  redeemed  souls,  the  Lord 
shall  say  to  the  laborers  in  this  great  and  noble  work,  "Ke- 
frain  thy  voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes  from  tears, 
for  thy  work  shall  be  rewarded." 

This  is  a  life  work  and  requires  a  firm,  resolute  and  an 
unwavering  purpose.  We  must  refrain  from  outward 
show  or  pomp — the  humble  Publican,  not  the  haughty 
Pharisee,  went  down  to  his  house  justified.  AVe  must  be 
earnest,  enduring  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  manfully, 
remembering  we  shall  reap  if  we  faint  not.  TTe  must  be 
calm  and  composed.  Like  the  ship  holding  her  course 
over  the  watery  paths  of  the  dark  and  tempestuous  sea 
while  billows  roll  over  her  deck  in  mighty  surges,  while 
the  lightning's  shaft  and  the  fierce  storm-cloud  threaten 
death  to  her  crev;.  Tossed  on  the  troubled  sea  she  weath- 
ers the  storms  and  accomplishes  her  journey.  So  it  should 
ever  be  with  the  Christian  on  the  sea  of  lite  where  the  bil- 
lows of  sin,  mountain  high,  at  times  lash  his  wearied  eftorts, 
yet  if  calmly,  firmly  resisted,  they  will  break  harmlessly  up- 
on the  rock-bound  shores  of  time.  A  fanatic  is  a  positive 
injury  in  this  life  work,  because  his  inconsistencies  more 
than  neutralize  all  the  good  he  may  do.  God  is  omnicient, 
and,  therefore,  is  not  dependent  on  finite  efi'orts  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  purposes  in  this  world.  But  it 
hath  pleased  him  to  honor  man  in  the  great  work  of  sav- 
ing sinners.  That  Almighty  Being  who  doth  according  to 
his  will  in  the  armies  of  heaven  and  among  the  inhabitants 
of  earth,  and  who    is  carrying    forward    all  the  plans  of 


280  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

his  goveriiiiient  to  a  glurious  consiiinination,  will  bounti- 
fully reward  us  in  this  life  and  in  the  life  to  come  crown 
us  with  immortality. 

We  trust  that  the  period  is  fast  approaching,  when  the 
breath  of  a  new  spirit  shall  pervade  the  inhabitants  of  every 
clime,  when  holy  love  shall  unite  all  nations  of  earth  in 
one  harmonious  society,  when  the  messengers  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace  "  shall  run  to  and  fro "  from  the  north  to 
the  south,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun;  when  the 
sound  of  the  gospel  trumpet  shall  re-echo  through  every 
land;  when  the  light  of  divine  revelation  shall  diffuse  its 
radiance  on  the  benighted  shores  of  idolatry;  when  its  sub- 
lime doctrines  and  moral  requisitions  shall  be  fully  under- 
stood and  recognized  in  all  their  practical  bearings,  and 
when  the  energy  of  that  Almighty  Spirit  which  reduced  to 
light  and  order  the  dark  and  shapeless  chaos  shall  be  ex- 
erted on  the  depraved  minds  of  this  world's  population. 
Then  the  death-like  slumber  which  has  seized  upon  Adam's 
race  shall  be  broken;  the  dead  in  trepasses  awake  to  new 
life  and  activity;  this  confusion  of  the  universe  and  gar- 
ments rolled  in  blood  be  restored  to  reason  and  intellectual 
freedom  and  to  the  society  of  angelic  being;  the  face  of  the 
moral  creation  be  renewed  after  the  ima^e  of  its  Creator. 
Then  wars  shall  cease,  anarchy  and  disunion  convulse  na- 
tions no  more;  violence  and  oppression  come  to  an  end; 
liberty  be  proclaimed  to  the  captives  and  the  opening 
of  the  prison  doors  to  them  that  are  bound.  Then  the 
order  and  beauty  of  the  celestial  system  will  be  restored. 
"Holiness  to  the  Lord"  will  be  inscribed  on  all  the  pur- 
suits of  man  Kindness  and  compassion  will  form  the 
amiable  characteristics  of  every  rank  of  social  life.  Love 
will  spread  her  benignant  wings  from  shore  to  shore,  and 
reign  in  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  For 
thus  saith  the  voice  of  him  who  sits  on  the  throne  of  the 
universe,   "Behold  I  make  all  things  new — I  create   new 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  281 

heavens  and  a  new  earth,  and  the  former  things  shall  not 
be  remembered,  nor  come  into  mind.  Be  ye  glad,  and  re- 
joice forever  in  that  which  I  create ;  for  behold,  I  create 
Jerusalem  a  rejoicing,  and  her  people  a  joy,  and  the  voice 
of  weeping  shall  be  no  more  heard  in  her,  nor  the  voice  of 
crying." 

And  secondly: 

God  will  hear  our  prayers  and  pour  out  the  w^ath  of  his 
indignation  upon  our  oppressors.  It  is  true  that  the  Lord 
may  not  visit  our  adversaries  always  as  we,  under  their  re- 
vilings,  might  desire.  You  know  the  Israelites  in  their 
Babylonish  captivity  wept  and  sighed  to  return  to  their 
native  land  for  a  long  time  after  they  had  repented  of  their 
folly;  but  when  deliverance  came  it  was  signal  and  salu- 
tary. 

While  the  old  heathen  monarch  with  a  thousand  of  his 
lords  was  at  the  drunken  feast,  and  pouring  out  libations 
to  his  gods,  and,  to  insult  the  God  of  heaven  still  more, 
ordered  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  temple  to  be  desecrated, 
"  then  came,  in  the  self-same  hour,  forth  the  fingers  of  a 
man's  hand,  and  wrote  over  against  the  candlestick  upon 
the  plaster  of  the  wall  of  the  king's  palace."  Belshazzar 
was  confounded.  He  called  all  the  wise  men  to  read  the 
writing.  They  came,  Jooked,  turned  pale,  and  confessed 
that  they  were  unable.  In  his  distress  and  terror  he  sends 
for  the  prophet  of  Israel.  Daniel  hastens  to  the  king's 
palace.  He  turns  to  the  wall  of  the  banquet-house,  bril- 
liantly lighted,  and  slowly  reads:  '^ Metie^  mene^  tekel^  up- 
harsin^''  and  with  God's  appointed  authority,  unfolds  the 
mystery  of  the  writing,  and  turns  and  leaves  the  royal 
feast.  Scarcely  had  the  footsteps  of  the  retiring  prophet 
ceased  to  sound  through  the  richly-carved  corridors  of  that 
palatial  mansion,  ere  the  soldiers  of  Cyrus,  having  entered 
the  city  through  the  channel  of  the  river  in  the  self-same 
hour,  rushed  into  the  royal  banquet-hall,  and  slaughtered 


282  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the  king  in  his  own  palace;  and  Bahylon,  the  terror  of 
nations,  fell,  and  her  courts  have  become  the  hiding-places 
of  venomous  serpents  and  the  retreat  of  the  \rild  men  of 
the  desert.  So  with  us.  The  heavens  above  us  may  seem 
like  brass,  the  earth  beneath  us  like  burning  iron;  we  may 
be  vexed  by  evil,  designing  persons;  the  sneers  and  fro\\Tis 
of  this  life  mav  sink  sadlv  into  our  hearts,  and  almost  cause 
us  to  waver  in  our  purpose,  yet  the  Lord  hears  our  prayers, 
although  we  may  not  realize  the  answer  in  this  life,  or 
may  not  see  why  afflictions  have  been  brought  upon  us, 
but  when  we  shall  have  broken  from  this  prison-house  of 
corruption,  and  winged  our  flight  to  the  eternal  world,  we 
will  see  from  the  celestial  shores  that  our  misfortunes  were 
blessings  in  disguise,  that  God  was  using  our  feeble  in- 
strumentalities for  the  accomplishment  of  some  great  pur- 
pose. Dear  friends,  let  us  be  patient  in  this  world  of  tribu- 
lation. "What  though  the  world  deride  our  efforts,  throw 
barriers  into  the  wav  of  our  usefulness,  sneer  at  our  feeble 
endeavor,  and  despise  our  prayers;  oh,  remember  the  ser- 
vant is  not  above  his  master,  and  if  Christ  was  insulted 
and  even  put  to  death  by  rude  hands,  how  may  we,  who 
profess  to  be  his  followers,  expect  to  escape  the  poisoned 
arrows  of  the  enemy  of  our  souls?  This  is  the  hour  of 
conflict.  This  world  is  a  battle-field.  The  armies  of  the 
redeemed  are  marshaled  against  the  powers  of  darkness. 
The  conflict  may  be  fierce  and  bloody,  and  the  earth  bathed 
with  the  crimson  fiood,  yet  the  forces  of  the  aliens  shall  be 
defeated  and  victory  cro^vn  the  gospel  banner,  and  the  Lord 
of  hosts  will  ride  forth  in  the  chariots  of  heaven,  and  es- 
tablish an  everlasting  peace.  Then  that  glorious  scene 
presented  to  the  view  of  the  apostle  John  shall  be  fully 
realized:  "Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and 
he  will  dwell  with  them,  and  they  shall  be  his  people,  and 
God  himself  shall  be  with  them,  and  be  their  God.  And 
God  shall   wipe  away  all  tears  from   their  eyes,  and   there 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  283 

shall  be  no  more  curse,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither 
shall  there  be  any  more  pain;  for  the  former  things  have 
passed  away."  Glorious  promise!  God  dwell  with  his 
people!  All  tears  be  wiped  away!  IS^o  more  curse!  The 
red  dragon  sin  be  put  in  subjection!  Glorious  day!  when 
the  angels,  swift- winged  messengers  of  the  sky,  shall  min- 
ister to  our  happiness!  When  the  "morning  stars"  that 
shouted  for  joy  when  this  fair  creation  arose  into  existence, 
shall  be  filled  with  unutterable  delight  and  shout  even  with 
more  ecstatic  jo}^  than  they  did  on  that  memorable  morn- 
ing, "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth,  and 
good  will  among  men !"  Press  on,  O  ye  heirs  of  salvation ! 
"  Hefrain  thy  voice  from  weeping,"  O  disconsolate  ones, 
"and  thine  eves  from  tears,  for  thv  work  shall  be  rewarded, 
saitli  t\\-e  Lord!"  Yonder,  in  Eden's  fair  bower,  where  the 
ambrosial  fruits  ever  bloom  on  the  tree  of  life,  where  rivers 
roll  down  their  golden  streams  of  sweet  nectar,  and  the 
crvstal  fountains  and  sea  of  s^lass  shimmer  in  the  summer 
sheen  of  the  heavenlv  Jerusalem,  will  be  thy  eternal  home 
as  the  reward  of  perseverance  and  patience,  my  brother, 
sister,  friend.     And  this  for  Jesus'  sake. 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  the  good  Lord  blessed  my  hum- 
ble efforts.  It  was  more  than  my  meat  and  my  drink  to 
do  my  heavenly  Father's  will.  While  thus  laboring,  my 
friends  often  told  me  I  must  be  careful,  or  I  would  soon 
wear  out.  But  to  these  fears  I  replied,  "  Better  wear  out 
than  to  rust  out."  When  I  beheld  the  desolation  on  every 
hand — of  the  young  wasting  the  precious  years,  I  felt  as  if 
I  must  cry  out,  and  s]>are  not  to  proclaim  the  love  of  that 
Saviour  who  had  done  so  much  for  me.  O  Father  Divine, 
help  me  ever  to  set  in  motion,  if  it  be  in  the  humblest  way, 
those  streamlets  of  influence  that  gladden  the  hearts  of 
humanity,  and  honor  my  God  and  my  Saviour.  May  I  see 
the  smile  of  heaven  resting  upon  all  the  fruits  of  my  life 
work  when  I  step  through  the  portals  of  eternity.     May  it 


2S4:  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

then  be  said:  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  thou 
hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things" — eternity's  blessings 
shall  be  thv  reward. 

At  this  time  I  was  also  receiving  many  calls  to  fill  pul- 
pifs  while  the  pastors  either  absented  themselves  bv  visit- 
ing other  places,  or  by  taking  a  rest  at  my  expense.  I  was 
always  glad  to  go,  and  the  only  consideration  I  asked  was 
the  privilege  of  presenting  the  Censer  to  the  congregation. 
This  they  usually  granted  me  very  freely.  And  I  must 
here  say  that  I  found  in  the  ministry  a  general  disposition 
to  aid  me.  All  of  which  was  truly  and  thankfully  appre- 
ciated by  me.  However,  I  found  some  inconsiderate  per- 
sons, as  the  following  will  illustrate:  At  this  time  it  was 
my  practice  to  write  to  pastors  of  the  churches  I  desired 
to  visit,  asking  them  if  it  would  be  agreeable  to  them  to 
have  me  come.  These  letters  were  very  generally  favora- 
bly answered.  In  response  to  such  a  letter  I  set  out  for  a 
village  southwest  of  Eockford.  I  could  make  about  half 
the  distance  bv  rail,  leavinor  about  seventeen  miles  to  walk. 
I  obtained  a  ride  the  first  six  miles,  and  footed  the  re- 
mainder over  ice  and  snow,  and  arrived  in  time,  but  strange- 
ly and  unaccountably  to  me,  the  pastor  not  only  did  not 
offer  me  the  common  courtesies,  but  did  not  even  recognize 
me,  though  I  was  well  known  to  him.  Hence  my  labor 
was  in  vain,  and  traveling  expense  out  of  pocket. 

At  another  place  the  pastor  urged  me  to  preach.  I  did 
so,  and  made  a  favorable  impression.  After  the  sermon, 
the  pastor  very  unexpectedly  proposed  to  take  up  a  collec- 
tion for  missions.  I  at  once  saw  the  design  and  trusted  in 
God  for  results.  The  collection  amounted  to  forty-five 
cents,  while  every  head  of  a  family  present  subscribed  for 
the  Censkr  and  paid  for  it,  besides  several  subscribing  for 
copies  to  be  sent  alu'oad.  1  never  saw  such  a  confused  pas- 
tor in  my  life.  But  I  was  not  at  fault.    He  had  invited  me. 

At  another  place  I  was  written  to  by  the  pastor  to  con- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  2S5 

duct  tlie  serdces  for  him  in  his  absence.  I  accepted  and 
filled  the  appointment.  But  to  mj  surprise,  after  the  ser- 
mon, a  deacon  arose,  and  pressinglj  urged  a  collection  for 
church  incidentals.  I  said  not  a  word,  though  I  felt  there 
was  selfishness  somewhere  at  work  to  divert  the  thoughts 
of  the  people.  The  collection  was  taken,  and  two  dollars 
and  forty  cents  was  the  amount.  I  never  took  a  larger 
subscription  for  the  Censer,  considering  the  size  of  the 
congregation,  than  I  did  that  beautiful  Maj  morning. 

But  I  preached  many  times  and  in  many  places  where 
'the  objects  of  the  paper  were  not  presented,  and  it  is  aston- 
ishing how  inconsiderate  some  good  people  are.  An  excel- 
lent brother  at  one  time  urged  me  to  come.  I  went;  paid 
my  railroad  fare,  believing  my  expenses  would  be  refunded, 
and  labored  hard  and  earnestly  on  the  Sabbath.  At  the 
close  the  brother  thanked  me  and  tliat  was  all.  I  felt  so 
bad  and  so  poor  over  it  that  I  footed  it  back  to  Hockford 
the  same  night,  arriving  at  daybreak.  At  another  place 
I  happened  in  the  evening  at  a  village  in  company  with 
some  friends;  did  not  expect  to  preach,  but  the  pastor 
learned  of  my  presence,  and  preach  I  must.  I  did  so.  The 
people  who  brought  me  to  the  village  lived  in  the  country, 
and  I  was  on  the  way  to  Rockford,  and  they  supposed  the 
preacher  would  see  me  provided  for  the  night.  The 
preacher  shook  my  hand  and  thanked  me  very  heartily  for 
the  sermon.  That  night  I  went  down  to  the  depot  and  sat 
up  until  3  o'clock  for  the  night  train.  I  would  have  stayed 
with  the  minister  or  any  member  of  the  church  had  I  been 
invited. 

On  Christmas  of  this  year — which  was  on  Saturday — I 
traveled  on  foot  through  a  deep  snow  to  Mt.  Morris — thirty 
miles.  I  arrived  in  the  evening  about  eight  o'clock,  tired 
and  foot- sore.  But  I  was  kindly  received  and  well  cared- 
for.  The  good  people  also  patronized  me  very  freely,  so 
much  so  that  I  footed  it  back  to  Rockford  on  Monday  with 


286  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

a  cheerful  heart.  This  was  toil,  ])ut  it  was  a  matter  oi 
stern  necessitj  to  keep  the  paper  from  sinking — and  all  be- 
cause I  carried  so  many  unpaving  subsci'ibers. 

Thus,  while  the  good  people  were  happy  in  their  beau- 
tiful homes  during  these  holidays,  I  was  tramping  through 
the  deep  snow,  and  facing  cold  winds  asking  people  to  sub- 
scribe for  the  Golden  Censer.  Oh,  it  was  so  discourag- 
ing. But  I  had  heart-clieering  reflections  as  I  thus  trudged 
along  my  weary  way,  on  foot  and  alone.  Ah,  indeed,  every 
ruined  son  of  nature,  however  desolate  and  depressed  his 
condition,  on  this  gladsome  festal  week,  the  week  in  which 
we  commemorate  the  advent  of  the  Lord  of  glory  in  his 
incarnation,  should  shout  for  joy  that  salvation,  like  a 
mighty  river,  encompasses  the  entire  earth.  See  its  wid- 
ening stream.  It  winds  around  the  hills  of  Asia.  It  flows 
across  the  sandy  plains  of  Africa.  It  rolls  hard  by  India's 
coral  strand.  Across  the  European  continent  its  gentle 
waters  swiftly  roll.  Over  Greenland's  icy  mountains  it 
melts  the  frozen  regions  into  love  and  good  will.  And 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  own  dear  land  it 
dances  like  pearls,  beneath  the  sun,  as  it  flows  on  in  silent 
murmurs.  Wherever  a  human  body  is  wrapped  around  an 
immortal  spirit,  there  the  stream  flows  in  all  its  freshness. 
And  all  along  this  stream  are  innumerable  voices  of  invi- 
tation, crying  "  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water 
of  life  freely." 

"  Whosoever  will."  Ah,  yes,  it  takes  the  will.  There 
must  be  a  willingness  to  take  salvation  on  God's  own  terms. 
And  what  are  his  terms?  It  reads,  "  whosoever  will,  let 
him  take  the  water  of  life."  Ilis  way,  then,  is  to  take. 
You  cannot  buy,  you  must  take.  Poor  mistaken  souls  who 
expect  to  buy  salvation  with  their  i^enitence,  their  tears, 
tiieir  sighs  and  groans.  Away  with  them,  it  takes  us  back 
to  heathenism,  where,  to  purchase  salvation,  long  pilgrim- 
ages were  made  to  the  temples  of  imaginary  deities — track- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  287 

ing  tlie  path  to  their  shrines  with  their  own  life-blood. 
Wliere  the  Hindoo  threw  himself  heneath  the  wheels  of 
Juggernaut  and  the  mother  cast  her  child  in  the  Ganges. 
Where  the  blood  flowed  from  lacerations  bj  their  own 
hands. 

IS'ot  so  with  God's  free  gift  to  man.  The  terms  are 
simply,  ^'  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely."  If  there  were 
a  price  on  the  gospel,  then  would  we  despair,  for  only  the 
learned,  the  refined,  the  rich  and  the  noble  would  be  its 
favored  objects.  Poverty  might  then  sit  down  and  weep, 
while  the  rich  and  the  learned  worshiped  within  marble 
temples  and  at  golden  shrines.  But  that  is  a  true  saying, 
worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  "  the  poor  have  the  gospel 
preached  to  them."  The  great  Physician  came  not  to  heal 
the  well,  but  the  sick.  He  came  not  to  save  the  secure,  but 
the  lost.  What  Jesus  giveth,  he  giveth,  and  that  freely. 
All  things  that  we  can  do  with  the  view  of  purchasing  sal- 
vation are  an  insult  to  Christ  in  the  garden  and  on  the 
cross,  and  an  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God.  He  who 
would  seek  to  merit  salvation  by  his  own  good  deeds  and 
inherent  virtues,  attempts  to  steal  from  the  brow  of  Jesus 
the  crown  that  he  so  dearly  purchased  in  his  suflerings 
for  the  "sins  of  many." 

But,  good  reader,  did  your  thoughts  ever  wander  back 
over  the  years  to  that  Bethlehem  scene,  to  the  incarnation, 
the  songs  of  angels,  to  the  appearing  of  a  new  star,  to 
the  journey  of  the  Magi?  If  so  your  thoughts  readily 
take  in  the  surroundings.  Out  upon  the  hillsides  of 
Judea,  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  when  all  nature 
was  hushed  in  repose,  and  the  twinkling  stars  shone  the 
brightest,  a  band  of  humble  shepherds  are  tending  their 
flocks.  The  night  is  calm  and  clear.  Below  them,  on  a 
plain,  surrounded  with  palm-trees,  lies  the  quiet  village  of 
Bethlehem.  Upon  an  eminence  above  them  slumbers  the 
proud  daughter  of  Zion — Jerusalem,  the  chosen  city  of 


288  ADTOBIOGRAl'IIY. 

tlie  ever-living  God.  On  either  side  of  them  rose  the  ever- 
lasting hills,  extending  their  hoary  brows  toward  heaven; 
while  at  their  feet  the  woodland  streamlets  murmur  their 
cheerful  songs  to  drooping  nature;  upon  their  banks  bloom 
the  lilies  and  violets — precious  types  of  purity. 

In  the  dead  hour  of  the  night,  while  their  flocks  are 
ruminating  beneath  the  pale  beams  of  the  moon's  silvery 
light,  the  shepherds,  in  the  stillness  of  the  hour,  recline 
themselves  upon  the  flowery  mead,  and  with  upraised  eyes 
are  meditating  the  wondrous  works  of  the  firmament, 
when  lo!  far  up  in  the  deep  blue  sky  a  golden  liglit,  as  if 
the  jasper  gates  of  heaven  were  opening,  met  their  as- 
tonished gaze.  A  vast  company  of  angels  at  length  were 
observed,  winging  their  flight  through  the  etherial  deep, 
as  if  on  some  mission  sent.  Passing  orb  after  orb,  they 
are  nearing  the  furthermost  boundaries  of  this  earth. 
"With  breathless  silence  the  shepherds  watch  the  angelic 
host.  Nearer  and  still  nearer  they  come.  Darkness  takes 
its  flight  before  the  matchless  brightness  of  the  heavenly 
messengers.  JS'ow  thej  break  forth  into  sweet,  choral  songs 
— such  as  human  ear  had  never  before  heard — filling  sky 
and  earth  with  melody,  while  from  the  golden  city  comes 
the  chorus  which,  in  deep  sublimity,  shakes   sea  and  land. 

Forthwith  the  King  descends  from  his  eternal  throne, 
and  in  awful  grandeur  proceeds  to  the  battlements  of 
heaven,  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  world  follow. 
Out  upon  the  space  of  time  he  flings  the  brightest  star 
of  his  matchless  crown.  Then  with  a  voice  that  shall  reach 
the  sleeping  dead,  the  angels  break  forth:  "  Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest!  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  man!"  For 
Shiloli  has  come,  and  his  star  appears  in  the  east,  which 
shall  never  go  down  till  the  kingdoms  of  earth  shall  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  Christ  the  Lord! 

Glorious  morn!  Wondrous  gift!  Precious  Saviour!  All 
along  down  the  ages  let  thy  merry  birthday  ring  in  glad- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  289 

some   song,  for  in  it  is  tlie  promise  of  the  better  life,  a 
nobler  inheritance,  a  crown,  pnre  robes,  palms  of  victory! 

Thus,  while  mj  thoughts  were  drinking  in  the  glories 
of  the  heavenly  world,  though  only  imperfectly  conceived, 
I  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men  because  humbly  strug- 
gling to  point  humanity  to  its  imperishable  realities. 
"While  my  body  was  weary,  my  soul  feasted  on  its  manna 
and  drank  deep  at  the  Fountain  whence  flow  the  healing 
waters  that  are  a  medicine  to  the  achino',  lono^inor  heart. 

At  another  time  I  set  out  to  reach  an  appointment.  It 
rained  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and  the  roads  were  so  poor 
that  I  had  to  stop  ten  miles  away  from  my  appointment. 
The  man  with  whom  I  stopped  would  have  taken  me  Sab- 
bath morning,  but  was  sick  and  could  not.  So,  nothing 
daunted,  I  set  out  on  foot  over  the  snow-drifts,  ice,  and 
swollen  streams  to  reach  the  place  ten  miles  away  in  time. 
I  arrived  about  fifteen  minutes  late — was  so  tired  I  could 
hardly  walk.  The  preacher  who  had  expected  me,  had 
opened  the  services,  and  conducted  them  to  their  close 
without  noticing  me.  At  the  close  I  made  myself  known.. 
But  to  my  utter  surprise,  he  merely  passed  the  compli- 
ments of  the  day,  went  out  of  the  church,  and  to  another 
appointment  without  saying  a  word  to  me.  I  was  in  a 
strange  place,  and  among  strangers.  'No  one  invited  me- 
home.  As  there  was  no  hotel  in  the  place,  I  had  to  go- 
without  dinner,  and  this  was  quite  an  effort,  as  I  had  trav- 
eled ten  miles  on  foot  since  breakfast.  In  the  afternoon  I 
was  invited  to  preach  in  another  church  in  the  village.  I 
did  so,  and  it  was  one  of  my  best  efforts.  But  the  preach- 
er refused  to  let  me  present  the  Censer  to  the  peoj)le.  It 
was  now  about  four  o'clock.  I  lingered  at  the  church  un- 
til the  congregation  had  nearly  all  retired,  in  hopes  that 
some  one  would  invite  me,  for  I  was  faint  with  hunger. 
But  no  one  gave  me  an  invitation.  So  I  set  out  on  foot 
eight  miles  to  a  friend  where  I  obtained  food  and  shelter. 
19 


2^0  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

But  oh  I  tlie  weary  limbs  and  lieart-aclies,  who  can  tell 
them. 

I  bring  up  these  incidents  to  show  how  inconsiderate 
some  people  are.  Doubtless,  if  I  named  the  congregations 
above  referred  to  thev  would  be  stuno^  to  the  verv  heart, 
but  I  looked  upon  it  as  thoughtlessness  on  their  part,  and 
not  as  selfishness.  And  I  would  here  add,  if  you  have  a 
strange  preacher  for  a  Sabbath,  see  that  he  has  a  place  to 
stay,  and,  if  you  can  give  him  no  more,  see  that  his  trav- 
eling expenses  are  all  paid.  Xow  it  costs  time  and  effort 
to  prepare  the  sermons,  and  then  it  takes  energy  and 
strength  to  deliver  them.  To  do  all  this  for  the  good  of  a 
community  for  no  pecuniary  consideration,  is  very  liberal 
on  the  part  of  the  preacher,  but  to  be  obliged  to  pay  four 
or  five  dollars  as  traveling  expenses  out  of  the  preacher's 
meagre  purse,  is  simply  an  imposition  and  an  insult.  But 
then  I  was  learning  human  nature — though  some  of  the 
lessons  were  dearly  paid  for. 

Passing  constantly  through  such  experience,  of  which 
the  above  is  only  illustrative,  the  reader  need  not  be  sur- 
prised if  some  of  the  editorials  were  written  plain,  and 
right  at  the  heart  of  a  class  of  people  in  every  community. 
Of  course  I  took  good  care  not  to  be  personal.  My  labors 
were  frequently  rewarded  with,  ''Stop  my  paper,"  "I  don't 
want  such  a  pa2:)er,"  and  many  other  personal  flings  and 
in-ults.  I  felt  hurt,  the  lips  often  quivered,  and  I  hardly 
knew  what  to  do.  Then  again,  I  was  too  severe  in  striking 
at  certain  national  sins,  such  as  intemperance,  corruptions, 
defalcations,  and  the  like;  others  again  objected  to  it  be- 
cause the  Censer  exposed  the  sin  and  folly  in  croquet-play- 
ing, theater-attending,  and  church  lotteries,  and  its  brood 
of  minor  sins. 

The  great  cry  raised  against  me  in  my  earnest,  uncom- 
promising efforts,  was  that  I  was  too  severe.  It  made  my 
heart  sick  to  see  the  church  slumbering  in  idleness,  while 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  291 

those  who  made  a  profession  thought  it  unfortunate  tliat 
60  much  stringency  and  rigidity  are  put  into  religion.  But 
is  it  indeed?  Whose  f\uilt  is  it?  Who  put  it  in?  Who 
made  it  what  it  is  ?  Who  said,  "Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy"  ? 
Who  made  the  holiness  of  God  the  standard  and  the  motive 
of  holiness?  Who  bade  us  to  be  perfect,  for  our  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect?  It  is  obviously  impossible  to  put  any 
more  stringency  and  rigidity  into  religion  than  God  put 
into  it,  when  he  made  his  own  character  the  measure  of  that 
perfection  to  which  his  creatures  must  aspire  and  should 
be  always  tending.  Systems  of  theology,  creeds,  or  cate- 
chisms, or  doctors  of  divinity,  do  not  make  religion.  The 
Christian  reliction  is  of  God.  It  was  tauo:ht  in  the  ^N^ew 
Testament  by  the  God  incarnate  and  his  apostles,  and  prac- 
tically illustrated  in  the  life  of  Christ.  And  is  the  religion 
of  any  sect  of  intelligent,  orthodox  Christians  more  sty^ict 
or  rigid  than  the  system  which  requires  the  church  to  be 
sej)arate  from  sinners,  not  to  be  conformed  to  the  world, 
to  be  pure  in  heart,  to  be  perfect,  to  be  holy,  as  God  is 
holy?  That  is  the  requirement  of  the  gospel,  that  is  the 
old-fashioned  doctrine  of  the  church,  and  if  there  is  any- 
thing more  rigid,  than  that  put  into  religion  I  have  never 
heard  of  it. 

Well,  my  brother,  you  who  think  the  good  old  way 
marked  out  by  the  Lord  himself,  taught  by  his  apostles, 
and  enforced  by  the  early  church,  too  straight,  what  do 
you  propose  to  do  about  it?  Are  you  going  to  lower  the 
standard;  to  sew  pillows  under  all  arm-holes;  to  call  evil 
good;  to  boil  the  peas  in  the  shoes  of  penance;  to  make 
beds  of  roses  for  soldiers  of  the  cross;  or  substitute  the 
songs  and  shouts  of  a  fashionable  meeting  for  the  self- 
denials  and  toils  and  penitence  of  a  life  of  conflict  and  of 
faith,  by  which  Christian  heroes  conquer  through  Christ 
and  win  heaven  at  last? 

It  is  said  that  when  Rubenstein,  the  great  German   mu- 


292  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sician,  was  in  this  country,  he  went  to  hear  a  famous 
preacher.  In  answer  to  the  inquiry  for  his  opinion  of  the 
preaching,  he  is  reported  to  have  remarked: 

''The  tendency  of  what  I  heard  was  to  bring  religion 
down  to  the  people,  not  to  bring  the  people  up  to  relig- 
ion." 

Precisely  such  is  the  tendency  of  much  which  goes  for 
o-ospel  preaching.  It  aims  to  inculcate  a  perfection  that 
accommodates  itself  to  the  imperfection  of  the  sinner.  It 
is  a  system  that  regards  it  a  great  misfortune  that  religion 
is  so  rigid  and  stringent,  and  would  excuse  the  short-com- 
ings of  the  Christian  by  the  failure  of  his  judgment  and 
the  exceeding  strictness  of  the  law.  Did  Christ  ever  lower 
the  claims  of  religion  to  meet  the  infirmities  of  men?  Did 
the  apostles,  in  their  letters  or  their  sermons,  dilute  the 
gospel  or  the  commandments  that  it  might  be  easier  for 
men  to  be  conformed  to  the  image  of  God? 

The  idea  of  lowering  the  standard  in  order  to  adapt  re- 
liirion  to  the  taste  of  the  asre,  or  the  views  of  this  leader  or 
that;  the  idea  of  making  religion  popular  by  making  it 
possible  for  a  sinner  to  compromise  his  sins;  the  idea  of 
holiness  less  holj^  than  that  which  the  Bible  requires — is  the 
dry  rot  of  the  church  in  our  day.  It  is  the  essential  ele- 
ment of  that  sentimental  religion  which  substitutes  joy  for 
repentance,  and  "feeling  good"  for  faith.  ''The  religion 
of  gush"  is  born  of  it.  AVorldliness,  licentiousness,  and 
all  manner  of  concupiscence,  flow  from  it  as  naturally  as 
water  from  a  fountain.  Meetings  that  once  were  pente- 
costal  seasons,  when  men  were  pricked  to  the  heart  by 
pungent  preaching,  and  were  turned  by  hundreds  from  sin 
to  holiness,  are  now  powerless  to  convict  of  sin.  In  my 
judgment  the  religion  of  to-day  needs  power  more  than 
anything  else.  The  practical  preaching  which  the  age  re- 
quires must  exalt  the  requirements  of  the  divine  law  to  the 
high  standard  of  the  gospel,  showing  the  inconsistency  of 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  293 

sin, — any  and  all  sin, — sins  of  omissiofi  and  commission, 
of  thought,  word  and  deed,  with  that  holiness  which  is  of 
the  heart;  shrinking  from  fraud,  falsehood,  unfaithfulness, 
impurity  in  thought,  speech,  or  behavior,  as  from  the 
l^lagne,  and  seeking  after  God  and  his  righteousness  as  of 
the  goal  of  the  soul's  aspirations  and  hoj^e. 

Let  the   pulpit  inculcate  the   doctrine  of  holiness,  for 
God  demands  it  of  all  his  creatures,     xlnd  it  is  because  the 
church  has  lost  its  confidence  in   the  verities   of  Christ 
that  it  is  so  lean   and   powerless.      Speaking   upon   this 
very  subject    in    conversation    with  a  minister    I    asked : 
Have  you  got  it?    Got  what?   Power  from  on  high?   No. 
I  do  not  believe  in  physical  religion — in  this  power,  as  you 
call  it.     Ah!  But  there  is  a  power  in  religion  that  neither 
earth  nor  hell  can  withstand.     One  saint  with  God  on  his 
side  is  more  powerful  than  them  all.      How  was  it  with 
Jacob  at   the  ford  Jabbok?    All  night  the  weeping  man 
struggles  in  weakness   with  the  mighty   God,  saying,  "  I 
will   not  let  thee   go,  except  thou  bless   me."     jind  God 
blessed  him  there,  even  at  daybreak,  and  called  his  name 
Israel.  "  for  as  a  prince"  he  had  j)ower  with  God,  and  with 
man,  and  prevailed.     The  disciples  were   instructed  to  re- 
main at  Jerusalem  until  they   were  endowed  with  power 
from  on  high,  and  when  the  baptism  of  power  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  was  upon  them,  they  began  to  speak  with  such 
holy   tenderness,  with    such   incontrovertable   logic,  with 
such  burning  eloquence,  as  to  send  the  arrows  of  conviction 
right  to  the  hearts  of  the  very  men  who  so  recently  cruci- 
fied   the   Lord   of  glory,  and  they  cried  out,   "  Men  and 
brethren,  what  shall  we  do?"    Peter  is  in  prison,  a  little 
band  are  assembled  at  Mark's  house  on  a  retired  street  in 
Jerusalem  to  pray,  and  they  did  not  have  very  great  faith 
either,  but  somehow  they  must  have  had  enough  to  move  the 
throne  of  heaven,  for  at  midnight,  the  angel  smote  off  the 
chains  from  Peter's  hands,  opened  the  great  iron  gates  and 


294:  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

led  him  out.  There  was  power  in  all  this,  greater  than  the 
strength  of  prison  walls  or  dungeon  gates.  Why,  listen! 
Do  you  hear  that  terrible  earthquake  down  there  in  Phil- 
ippi?  AVliat  is  the  matter?  Oh,  nothiiig  much,  Paul  and 
Sihis,  at  midnight  are  praying,  and,  though  their  feet  are 
made  fast  in  the  stocks,  and  they  in  the  inner  prison 
guarded  by  soldiers,  yet  so  happy  were  they  that  they 
''sang  praises  unto  God,  and  the  prisoners  heard  them." 
Oh,  how  sweet  the  music  of  their  voices  must  have  sounded 
to  those  prisoners!  But  while  Paul  and  Silas  were  enjoy- 
ing their  little  prayer-meeting,  the  keeper  of  the  prison 
awoke  out  of  his  sleep,  and  seeing  the  prison  doors  open, 
he  drew  out  his  sword,  and  would  have  killed  himself;  poor 
fellow,  he  ought  to  have  kept  awake.  lie  knew  it  was 
death  to  a  Koman  soldier  to  sleep  while  on  duty,  hence  the 
desperation  of  his  purposed  act.  But  Paul,  the  noble- 
hearted,  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  "  Do  thyself  no 
harm;  for  we  are  all  here."  Ah!  there  was  power  in  that 
prison  prayer-meeting — even  the  subduing  of  heathen  sol- 
diers. 

We  see  then,  from  the  above  examples,  quoted  from  the 
Scripture,  that  saints  of  old  believed  in  power.  And  when 
we  see  what  this  power  has  done  for  holy  men  of  old,  it  is 
very  desirable,  for  it  so  energizes  the  whole  man,  soul, 
intellect  and  all.  But  to  have  this  power  we  must  meet 
the  conditions — live  a  holy,  pure  life.  The  Word  and 
Spirit  not  only  agree  in  being  quick  and  powerful,  but 
sharp — hear  it — sharp — piercing,  discerning;  here  is  one 
of  the  signs  of  this  purity  and  power. 

Whoever  is  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
will  be  marked  witli  a  definiteness  and  steadiness  of  aim, 
and  at  times  will  pierce,  and  cut,  and  cleave,  and  anatomize 
with  a  daring  and  precision  that  is  awful.  Is  this  the 
power  you  want?  or  is  it  the  power  to  present  only  things 
lovely  and  of  good  report? 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  295 

Again,  what  is  it?  Well,  it  is  uot  power  to  talk  loud. 
It  don't  mean  the  high  swells  so  much,  nor  even  a  gifted 
tongue,  though  this  shall  be  touched  as  with  living  coals. 
True  greatness  is  a  humble  attitude.  It  is  power  when 
called  a  fanatic  by  jour  neighbors,  with  others  in  doubt 
but  that  it  may  be  true,  to  stand  calm  and  serene  in  the 
recollection  that  you  have  eternity  to  contradict  them  in, 
and  can  afford  to  wait  for  the  argument.  Moral  power  is 
not  a  superadded  quality  of  holiness — a  separate  gift  tacked 
on  to  that  state,  which  may  be  lost  off;  it  belongs  to  purity 
and  can  never  be  taken  out  of  it.  If  you  have  holiness, 
you  have  religious  power  just  as  you  need.  And  there  are 
men  and  women  girded  in  God's  own  armor,  who  ask  leave 
of  nothing  if  they  may  but  triumph  over  all  things  through 
Christ  who  strengtheneth  them.  Their  moral  power  and 
holy  grandeur  are  enough  to  charm  angels. 

Now  what  is  the  philosophy  of  this  power?  It  lies  in 
that  faith  which  is  of  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
We  are  strong,  as  religious  beings,  just  in  proportion  to 
our  faith.  But  the  question  arises,  What  is  strong  faith? 
It  is  not  a  faith  so  great  in  the  scope  of  its  actings,  as  in 
its  firmness.  It  is  unmixed  faith;  in  opposition  to  some 
believing,  some  reasoning,  and  the  rest  of  human  proba- 
bilities. Faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed  is  strong,  if  it  is 
faith  only.  This  supplementing  faith  with  outward  signs 
vitiates  what  faith  we  have.  This  reassuring  the  immut- 
able  promise,  by  sights  and  dreams,  by  hopeful  appearances 
and  human  probabilities,  is  like  requiring  the  Almighty  to 
give  bail  for  his  character. 

Real  faith  makes  the  Infinite  master  of  our  impossibilities. 
Some  of  our  teachers  seem  to  think  that  faith  maybe  coax- 
ed and  caressed  along  to  victory,  if  one  only  knows  how  to 
do  it.  But  there  is  more  motive  to  faith  in  one  ffleam  oi 
the  two-edged  sword  than  is  found  in  all  persuading  or 
platitudes. 


296  AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 

Bring  on  a  nece5«sity  for  God's  help  I  Dash  into  the 
bruised  reeds — make  everv  human  prop  reel  before  the 
emergency — bereave  the  sonl  of  home  help  and  home  hope, 
reilnced  to  a  spiritual  foundling  on  the  d<x>r-steps  of  the 
kingdom,  too  starved  to  knock,  and  faith  will  go  to  Christ, 
and  ffo  alone  too.  Go  to  the  wreck  if  you  would  see  the 
life-boat  shooting  over  the  swells.  God  don't  touch  a  soul 
till  it  founders.  The  chief  doubt  of  human  salvation, 
everywhere,  lies  in  the  deceitfulness  and  mockery  of  home 
remedies;  all  of  which  must  be  abandoned  in  despair,  be- 
fore Christ,  the  great  Alternative,  is  accepted;  for  no  man 
trusts  his  all  on  the  credit  of  the  poor  man's  Saviour  with 
two  hopes  on  hand.  Hence  it  requires  more  faith  to  dis- 
believe in  ourselves  than  it  does  to  believe  in  God.  Look- 
ing to  God  comes  natural  to  despairing  eyes.  Who  dare 
sink,  taking  all  his  props  with  him,  at  the  bidding  of  Jesus 
Christ?  Tliat  is  faith!  God  can  lift  us  up  on  our  sinking 
faith,  for  the  conditions  of  our  exaltation  are  met  in  our 
going  down,  for  man's  extremity  is  God's  opportunity, 
the  weakest  of  all  God's  saints  on  his  knees  is  stronger 
than  the  whole  unbelieving  world  beside. 

Again,  this  spiritual  power  would  subdue  all  opposition. 
With  God  all  things  are  possible.  It  is  the  lack  of  onr 
confidence  or  faith  to  claim  the  promises  that  make  ns 
mere  babes  in  the  faith — mere  reliorious  dwarfs.  Whv  are 
some  churches  praying  for  the  outp<:»uring  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  no  Holy  Spirit  is  outpoured,  while  other  com- 
munities with  similar  petitions  are  blessed  with  gnicious 
refreshings  from  the  Lord?  Is  it  because  God  is  partial? 
Ah  I  no.  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  One  soul  is  just 
as  precious  in  his  sight  as  another.  But  it  is  because  of 
our  faith.  We  don't  meet  the  conditions.  For  when  we 
offer  the  petition,  ^  O  Lord,  revive  thy  work,''  we  ask  for 
a  blessing  that  cannot  be  over-estimated,  and  which  must 
sweep  every  string  of  the  heart.     If  that  petition  comes 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  297 

from  unholy  or  faitliless  lips  it  is  worse  than  mockery — it 
is  an  insult  to  the  Almiglity.  But  the  faith-power  pleads 
with  God  until  its  "violence"  takes  the  promises  by  force, 
until  the  windows  of  heaven  are  opened  and  the  blessing 
poured  out.  Then  ministers  and  people  would  be  agreed 
as  touching  "the  one  thing,"  harmony  would  prevail  in 
congregations,  empty  pews  would  be  tilled,  ministers 
would  preach  with  more  unction,  hearers  would  listen  with 
deeper  attention,  precious  souls  would  be  converted, 
chui'ches  would  be  built  up  and  strengthened,  thousands 
of  the  ungodly  would  be  arrested  in  their  wickedness,  the 
most  abandoned  would  be  stricken  with  awe  and  inquire 
after  Christ,  skeptics  and  infidels  would  bow  before  the 
truth  and  admit  that  verily  there  is  a  God  in  the  earth, 
the  causes  of  benevolence  would  receive  a  fresh  impulse, 
the  debts  of  boards  would  be  easily  paid  and  their  treasur- 
ies would  be  filled,  the  parched  and  desolate  places  would 
bloom  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord  would  hasten  apace  wlien  prison  doors  would  open, 
chains  fall  ofi",  captives  be  liberated,  swords  beaten  into 
plowshares,  wars  and  rumors  of  wars  cease,  childhood  escape 
the  dire  consequences  of  sin,  old  age  walk  to  quiet,  peace- 
ful graves  with  the  golden  shores  of  eternity  in  full 
view,  all  earth  resound  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord, 
and  every  heart  be  filled  with  joy  unspeakable;  in  short, 
the  verv  God  of  heaven  would  come  down  and  dwell  among 
his  people  to  the  everlasting  joy  of  Israel's  hosts;  all  places 
of  vice  and  temptation  would  be  swept  away  as  the  vapor 
of  the  morning;  the  rum-shops,  and  dance  houses,  and  bil- 
liard halls,  and  pleasure  gardens,  would  go  down  before  a 
refined  and  Christian  principle;  taxation,  extortion,  gov- 
ernment subsidies,  great  corporations  grinding  the  face  of 
the  poor,  would  be  things  of  the  past;  the  Golden  Rule 
would  be  in  every  transaction,  and  every  phase  of  the  work 
of  Christ  would  put  on  a  new  and  vigorous  life! 


298  AUTOBIOOKArHY 

"Would  that  my  pen  had  the  eloquence  to  move  the 
hearts  of  all  my  readers  towards  the  attainment  of  this 
power.     Tliis  is  no  ideal  picture,  but  a  grand  possibility. 

0  God  help  us  to  cast  these  dead  weights  from  us;  help  us 
to  arise  into  that  newness  of  life  which  will  enable  us  to 
exercise  tliat  power  which  shall  raise  a  fallen,  helpless  world 
heavenward!  May  we  never  be  satisfied  to  live  at  this 
poor  dying  rate,  down  in  the  damp  valley  of  doubts  and 
fears,  but  let  us  climb  the  mountain  heights  and  bask  in 
the  clear  sunlight  of  heaven,  and  live  in  full  view  of  the 
promised  land, — then  shall  our  years  be  crowned  with  a 
halo  of  irlorv  worthv  the  name  of  Christians  whose  God  is 
the  Lord  of  hosts. 

But  it  is  "  hope  deferred  that  maketli  the  heart  sick  " 
In  the  spirit  of  my  heavenly  Master,  T  tried  to  advance 
these  old-fashioned  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  but  people  de- 
spised me  for  it.  I  was  unpopular,  and  the  weekly  issues 
of  the  Golden  Censer,  burning  with  these  truths,  only 
made  it  obnoxious  to  the  dead,  formal  professor,  whose 
heart  was  a  whited  sephulcher,  and  whose  life  daily  dis- 
played the  Pharisaical  prayer,  "  I  thank  God  that  I  am  not 
as  other  men,  even  that  poor  publican,"  the  Censer,  which 
is  trying  to  disturb  ray  peace  of  mind.  I  won't  read  it. 
I'll  just  stop  it. 

Thus  I  found  it  necessary  to  canvass  for  the  paper  just 
as  I  had  done  at  its  commencement.  I  visited  Madison, 
Janesville,  Edgerton,  Stoughton,  Milton,  Delavan,  Elk- 
horn,  and  manv  other  towns  in  Wisconsin.  After  having 
spent  nearly  a  week  on  one  of  these  trips,  upon  Saturday 
night  I  arrived  in  a  most  lovely  village — I  withhold  names. 

1  sought  the  pastors  of  several  churches,  and  asked  them  if 
they  would  let  me  present  the  paper  to  the  people.  They 
refused,  and  also  gave  me  no  encouragement  to  stay  over 
Sunday.  I  left  the  place  about  sundown.  Having  traveled 
and  Ciinvassed  for  some  distance,  as  it  was  getting   h\te, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  299 

I  asked  at  one  place  and  another  to  stay  for  the  night. 
But  thej  all  began  to  make  excuses,  and  some  even  told 
me  to  leave  their  premises.  I  was  tired,  sick  at  heart  and 
discouraged.  People  were  retiring,  and  T  became  alarmed 
that  I  should  receive  no  shelter.  I  stopped  at  one  place 
and  very  politely  and  entreatingly  asked  them  to  keep  me, 
assuring  them  I  would  sleep  on  the  floor,  if  I  only  could 
be  protected  from  the  dampness  of  the  night  air.  The 
man  told  me  to  "clear  out."  I  then  asked  him  how  far  it 
was  to  the  next  house.  He  told  me  "eighty  rods."  I  re- 
plied that  I  would  go  and  ask  at  the  next  house,  and  if 
they  refused  me,  I  would  return  and  sleep  in  his  barn  or 
under  one  of  his  straw  stacks. 

I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  he  called  to  me  to 
return.  I  did  so  gladly,  and  I  received  very  kind  treat- 
ment from  the  good  farmer  and  his  wife.  The  next  day  1 
preached  in  the  church  of  the  village  three  miles  distant 
(not  the  one  I  had  passed),  and  had  the  most  of  these 
people  as  my  auditors.  Somehow  a  strange  feeling  came 
over  me,  and  I  was  eloquent  and  earnest,  and  used  the 
gospel  sword  in  love  and  tenderness.  Half  the  congrega- 
tion were  in  tears.  I  trust  they  were  benefited,  ^ow  all 
this  may  seem  very  strange  to  some  of  my  readers,  yet  this 
is  my  simple  experience. 

But,  oh,  it  was  so  hard!  Whj"  are  people  so  slow  to 
help  a  poor  struggling  mortal?  The  only  consolation  I  had 
was  the  reflection  that  this  mortal  life  was  but  for  a  little 
while,  and  I  looked  up,  through  my  tears,  and  asked,  "  How 
long,  O  Father!"  But  then  these  "little  whiles"  of  God- 
do  they  comfort  us  as  God  meant  they  should,  or  do  we 
look  one  another  in  the  face,  wondering  and  saying.  What 
is  this  that  he  saith?  For  faith's  and  comfort's  sake,  let  us 
seek  the  meanins^  and  the  consolation  of  God's  "little 
whiles."  The  mystery  of  the  "little  while"  is  a  legacy  to 
the  universal  church.     Christ's  discourse   on  his    second 


300  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

coming,  in' Mutt.  24,  certain  passages  in  the  Epistles,  and 
the  closing  words  of  Eevelations,  "Behold  I  come  qnickly," 
may  all  have  had,  and  will  have  their  influence  in  awaken- 
ing and  keeping  alive  this,  the  sweetest  hope  that  the 
church  can  cherish — the  little  while  of  human  life.  "For 
what  is  jour  life?  It  is  even  as  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for 
a  little  time  and  then  vanisheth  away."  Whence  this  dole- 
ful confession  of  human  frailty,  that  man,  made  in  God's 
image,  gifted  with  God's  reason,  heir  of  God's  immortality, 
fades  from  existence  like  a  summer  cloud?  The  scriptures 
declare,  "Our  days  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle;  our 
years  are  spent  like  a  tale  that  is  told."  Man  is  "like  the 
grass,  withered  by  the  heat  so  soon  as  it  is  sprung  up;  his 
days  are  an  hand-breadth."  We  are  really  living  by  the 
day.  We  are  born  every  morning,  we  die  every  night, 
and  with  the  dreadful  uncertainty  that  any  day  may  inter- 
cept our  plans  and  dash  our  hopes.  We  are  impre^sed 
with  the  brevity  of  our  days,  not  so  much  frum  their  abso- 
lute fewness  as  from  our  constant  liability  to  death. 

Look  at  the  "  little  while"  of  earthly  sorrow.  "  Our 
liofht  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment."  Surelv  he  is 
a  stranger  to  human  grief,  who  thus  can  speak  lightly  of 
life's  woes.  But  listen  to  his  own  confession:  "Of  the 
Jews  five  times  received  I  forty  stripes  save  one,  thrice 
was  I  beaten  with  rods,  once  was  I  stoned,  thrice  I  suffered 
shipwreck,  a  night  and  a  day  have  I  been  in  the  deep,  in 
journey ings  often,  in  perils  of  water,  in  perils  of  robbers, 
in  perils  by  my  own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the  heathen, 
in  i)erils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness,  in  perils  in 
the  sea,  in  perils  among  false  brethren,  in  weariness  and 
painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in 
fastings  often,  in  cold  and  nakedness;  besides  those  things 
that  are  without,  that  which  cometh  u})on  me  daily,  the 
care  of  all  the  churches."  So  far,  then,  from  being  a 
novice,  he  is  an  old  veteran,  battle-scarred  and  tried.    But 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  301 

by  what  magic  scale  does  lie  weigh  snch  momentous  expe- 
riences, that  he  can  call  them  "  light  afflictions"?  By  what 
unknown  standard  of  time  does  he  gauge  their  continu- 
ance, that  they  seem  "  but  for  a  moment"?  His  afflictions 
were  not  light  in  themselves.  There  were  times  when,  to 
use  his  own  language,  he  "  was  pressed  out  of  measure, 
above  strength,  insomuch  that  he  despaired  of  life,"  but 
whenever  the  heavy  sorrow  of  life  bore  down  the  scale  he 
threw  into  the  balance  a  weight  so  mighty  that  the  beam 
was  instantly  reversed,  and  that  weight  was  the  eternal 
weight  of  glory.  Paul's  public  life  was  by  no  means  brief, 
and  during  the  period  he  might  well  say,  "  I  die  daily." 
As  the  weight  of  glory  made  the  affliction  light,  so  the  eter- 
nal weio:ht  of  erlorv  made  it  seem  but  for  a  moment.  It 
was  then,  from  the  time-view  of  the  eternal,  that  Paul 
looked  upon  life's  woes,  and  felt  that  they  were  only  for  "a 
little  while." 

Pightly  estimated  and  improved,  our  afflictions  are  our 
greatest  mercies.  They  are  the  credentials  of  sonship, 
they  are  seals  of  the  divine  love,  and  in  proportion  as  we 
strive,  with  God's  grace,  to  become  partakers  of  his  holi- 
ness, shall  we  find  the  world  sinking  in  the  distance,  and 
ourselves  poised  on  the  wings  of  faith,  and  rejoicing  in 
God's  time-view,  estimating  earth's  painful  hours  by  the 
eternal  standard,  and  comforted  by  the  thought  that  the 
sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us.  From 
the  remote  ages  of  that  eternal  future  we  shall  look  back 
and  see  our  entire  earthly  life  to  be  but  a  point,  a  speck  in 
our  immortal  career. 

To  you,  my  fellow  soldiers,  I  have  these  words  to  say: 
These  are  not  times  for  fainting:  these  are  not  times  for 
idling.  All  the  world  is  active;  the  wheels  of  commerce 
are  revolving  at  a  greater  rate  than  ever.  Everywhere 
events  march  with  a  giant  stride.     We  have  seen  what  our 


302  AUTOBIOGRAJ^HY. 

fathers  dreamed  not  of.  Xow,  if  ever,  the  church  of  God 
ought  to  be  awake.  The  demands  of  souls  require  our 
utmost  diligence;  the  enemy  is  active  in  deceiving;  we 
must  be  active  in  instructing  and  saving  now,  by  the  pre- 
cious blood  of  Christ,  who  bought  us.  0  ye  believers  in 
Christ,  bestir  yourselves,  if  the  blood  divine  be  in  your 
veins,  and  if  ye  be  soldiers  of  that  great  Captain,  who  unto 
death  strove  against  sin;  and  if  ye  expect  to  wear  the 
white  robe  and  wave  the  palm  of  victory,  in  the  name  of 
the  eternal  and  ever-living  God,  seek  ye  his  Spirit  and  the 
divine  energy,  that  ye  may  labor  yet  more  abundantl}^  and 
faint  not. 

How  many  are  crushed  because  their  best  efforts  are  not 
appreciated.  The  labors  of  the  Censer  were  often  spurned 
because  its  editor  was  poor  and  depressed. 

However,  God  plants  his  angels  in  the  most  barren 
and  waste  places.  It  is  a  beautiful  thought,  whether  true 
or  not.  I  love  to  make  it  so.  It  is  related  that  among 
the  thinofs  that  are  said  to  have  come  down  to  us  from 
paradise  uninjured  by  the  fall,  the  "  Beauty  of  Flowers  " 
stands  foremost;  and  this  relic  of  Eden  is,  happily,  within 
the  reach  of  all.  The  rich  have  no  monopoly  in  this;  rank 
and  reputation  are  not  necessary  to  its  possession;  for,  true 
to  the  touch  of  the  divine  pencil,  the  flowers  will  open 
with  as  gorgeous  beauty  by  the  side  of  the  poor  man's 
cottage  as  by  the  palace  of  the  millionaire;  and  the  lowli- 
est dwelling  may  be  surrounded  with  that  which  in  beauty 
of  adornment  outrivals  Solomon  in  all  his  glory. 

What  the  flowers  are  to  the  poor  cottager,  God's  "little 
whiles"  and  "light  afflictions  ''  are  to  the  sons  of  sorrow 
and  of  toil.  The  humblest  may  share  the  precious  promises 
held  out  to  us  in  the  Word  of  Life.  Many  times  could  I 
have  sat  down  discouraged,  and  said  it  is  of  no  use;  but  I 
would  not  thus  yield.  I  preferred  to  suffer  honestly  with 
debts  paid,  than  to  swindle  my  creditors  by  failures. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  303 

To  thus  meet  mj  obligations,  in  order  to  save  every 
dollar  possible,  I  often  bad  long  journeys  to  perfoim  on 
foot,  as  I  could  not  afford  to  trav-el  all  the  distance  by  cars. 
At  one  time  I  footed  it  from  Forreston — about  forty  miles 
— to  Eockford  in  the  afternoon  and  night;  at  another  time 
from  Beloit,  Wis.,  in  the  night;  several  times  from  Rock- 
ton  in  the  night.  All  these  travels  were  performed  after 
three  or  four  days'  canvassing,  and  when  I  was  tired,  hun- 
gry, and  often  discouraged.  But  I  was  a  poor  boy,  strug- 
gling against  adverse  circumstances  to  provide  a  home  for 
my  poor,  unfortunate  sister.  Oh,  if  the  good  people  could 
have  looked  into  my  heart  and  seen  the  bleeding  record 
there  they  would  have  taken  the  Censer  I  But  if  human 
energy  could  prevent  it,  I  determined  that  the  paper  would 
never  fail  so  long  as  life  and  health  remained. 

About  this  time  the  Eockford  lottery  was  in  full  blast. 
The  Censer  exposed  the  villany  in  all  its  naked  deformity. 
As  might  have  been  expected,  the  local  papers,  who  were 
reaping  their  harvest  out  of  it  in  the  way  of  advertising, 
and  in  doing  the  printing  for  the  swindlers,  opened  their 
guns  on  the  poor  Censer.  I  literally  fought  my  way.  It 
was  hard.  I  had  my  idea  of  what  Christianity  consisted. 
I  was  painfully  sensible  that  people  lived  not  only  far  be- 
low their  blessed  privilege,  but  below  positive  duty.  The 
Censer  showed  the  people  their  sins,  and  they  called  me 
severe,  and  many  did  all  they  could  to  discourage  me  in 
my  efforts. 

In  my  poverty  and  gloomy  prospects,  I  felt  like  giving 
up.  Many  times  I  repented  of  my  purpose  in  trying  to 
continue  the  Censer.  I  Veally  envied  the  ditch-digger 
and  the  street- scavenger  as  mortals  far  happier  than  I.  Oh, 
it  did  seem  so  hard !  What  a  vast  amount  of  selfishness  I 
unearthed  in  opposing  and  exposing  the  sins  of  the  times. 
Under  these  perplexing  and  unpromising  circumstances  1 
completed  the  second  volume  of  the  Censer.     1  had  real- 


30-1  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ized  not  a  cent,  though  I  worked  hard  every  day  and  every 
evening  in  the  week,  and  nio^t  every  Sunday-  preached  two 
or  three  times;  met  with-  disappointments;  traveled  hun- 
dreds of  miles  on  foot  through  rain,  wind  and  snow;  can- 
vassed from  house  to  house,  actually  pleading  for  patron- 
age in  my  deep  poverty  and  under  pressing  circumstances; 
I  had  slept  in  the  open  air,  in  the  woods  at  the  foot  of 
some  large  tree,  in  barns,  under  straw  and  hay  stacks,  in 
short,  anywhere  night  overtook  me.  It  is  true  I  asked  at 
houses  to  be  kept  for  the  night,  but  was  often  refused.  I 
do  not  know  as  I  ought  to  relate  these  things,  as  I  have 
kept  them  locked  up  in  my  own  heart  until  now,  and  am 
only  led  to  do  so  to  encourage  the  young  and  those  who 
have  to  struorofle  with  the  untoward  circumstances  of  life. 
As  from  my  beautiful  home  and  pleasant  surroundings,  I 
look  over  these  years  of  trial  and  heartaches,  it  seems  al- 
most impossible  that  there  is  such  a  wide  contrast.  And 
I  do  think  any  person  less  used  and  inured  to  hardships 
than  the  writer  would  have  broken  down  in  health  and 
resolution.  God,  however,  led  me  by  a  way  I  knew  not, 
and  it  is  just  like  God  to  be  so  good  and  merciful  as  he 
has  been  to  me. 

And  let  me  say  fur  the  encouragement  of  the  yoiing  read- 
er, never  despair.  Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead. 
God  on  your  side  is  always  a  majority,  though  the  whole 
world  oj^pose  you.  I  have  confidence  in  the  young  man 
who  is  actuated  by  a  laudable  aspiration.  Man's  desire  for 
greatness  has  ever  been  conspicuous  in  the  history  of  the 
past.  It  has  frequently'  brought  upon  him  suffering  in 
body  and  mind,  and  blighted  his  prospect  of  future  suc- 
cess simply  because  it  was  misdirected.  Because  a  noble 
faculty  is  abused,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  obey  its 
promptings,  especially  when  it  would  lead  us  to  the  high- 
er and  the  better  development  of  our  natures.  The  desire 
to  rise  above  the  commonalities  of  life  is  one  of  the  noblest 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  305 

aspirations  implanted  in  the  human  heart  bj  the  Creator, 
if  properly  directed;  but  wlien  misguided,  it  becomes  a 
twofold  curse,  in  that  it  brings  wretchedness  to  its  pos- 
sessor, and  inflicts  sorrow  and  misery  upon  those  to  whom 
his  influence  extends.  Man  without  a  desire  to  excel  in 
what  he  undertakes  would  be  a  mere  drone — a  beinff  with- 
out  motive,  and  hence  without  action.  I^o  great  enter- 
prise would  be  undertaken;  no  ships  would  plow  the  ocean's 
waves;  no  cars  traverse  the  fertile  plains.  The  farm,  the 
shop,  the  counting-room,  the  studio,  the  pulpit — all  would 
be  abandoned,  had  man  no  higher  motive  than  merely  to 
exist. 

Yet  man,  through  misconception  of  heroism,  has  per- 
verted his  desire  for  greatness,  and  brought  about  untold 
evils. 

Aspiring  to  be  gods,  angels  fell ; 
Aspiring  to  be  angels,  men  rebel. 

The  world  again  and  again  has  been  shaken  by  the  ad- 
vent of  some  so-called  mighty  hero.  Armies,  like  a  fatal 
pestilence,  have  devastated  empires,  dethroned  kings,  and 
slaughtered  multitudes  in  their  march  to  conquest.  The 
pages  of  history  are  stained  with  deeds  of  blood  and  pol- 
luted with  the  record  of  crimes.  Earth  has  been  a  vast 
arena,  on  which  military  champions  struggled  for  glory. 
Alexander  overturning  dynasties ;  Hannibal  invading  Rome 
wdth  fire  and  sword;  Caesar  crimsoning  the  fields  of  Gaul 
and  Germany  with  human  gore;  Napoleon  sweeping  over 
the  burning  sands  of  Egypt, — are  but  illustrations  of  a 
false  conception  of  true  greatness. 

True  greatness  never  writes  its  achievements  on  tlie 
tablet  of  fame  with  the  sword.  Like  the  sun  in  his  mer- 
idian splendor,  it  brings  blessings  to  this  world  overwhelm- 
ed by  the  powers  of  darkness.  It  binds  up  the  broken 
heart,  pours  the  oil  of  gladness  into  the  wounds  of  oppres- 
20 


306  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sion,  visits  the  prisoner  in  liis  dungeon,  strikes  the  fetters 
from  the  captive's  galled  limbs,  fills  the  ocean  with  snow- 
white  sails,  spreads  the  network  of  railways  and  telegraplis 
over  continents,  causes  the  barren  plains  and  desolate  re- 
gions of  the  globe  to  bloom  like  the  rose  of  summer.  It 
penetrates  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  brings  up  its  glit- 
terin""  treasures:  it  detects  the  microscopic  inhabitants  of 
the  dewdrop;  it  unfolds  to  us  tlie  countless  charms  of 
nature;  in  short,  it  leads  us  to  admire  the  wisdom  and  glory 
of  God  throughout  his  boundless  dominions. 

Although  every  age  has  furnished  men  who  have  vainly 
sought  the  pathway  of  greatness  by  subverting  kingdoms 
ami  empires,  yet  there  have  also  been  men  who  have  ac- 
tually found  it.     Socrates,  the  great  moral  philosopher  of 
the  heathen  world,  proclaimed   under  the  very   shadow  of 
temples  consecrated  to  idolatry,  the  eternal  truth — there  is 
but  one  God.     His  greatness  seemed  like  the  rising  sun 
over  Helicon's  cities  of  blind  superstition.      Cicero,  the 
central  light  of   Eome,  saving  that  mighty  empire  from 
civil  dissension  by  his  eloquence  and  wisdom,  has  engraven 
his  name  on  a  monument  which  shall   never  decay  while 
ages   fill  •their   appointed    course;    Howard,  whose   heart 
yearned  with  sympathy  for  the  poor  and  imprisoned,  who 
spent  his  fortune  and  life  in   visiting  noisome  dungeons, 
will  be  held  in  grateful  remembrance,  not  only  by  Conti- 
nental Europe,  but  by  all  mankind;     Xewton,  to  whom 
we  are   indebted  for  tho§e  fundamental  truths  of  natural 
philosophy  l)y  which  we  have  been  enabled  to  compute  the 
distances  and  ascertain  the  motion  of  celestial  bodies,  far 
transcends,  in  true  greatness,  the  noblest  of  Oriental  heroes. 
The  name  of   Mr.  Peabody,  the  great  benefactor  of   the 
poor  of  London,  will  go  down  to  the  latest  generation  with 
the  everlasting  gratitude  of  orphans   and   widows.     TVho 
can   adequately  extol   the  influence  of   such  greatness  of 
heart  and  such  nobleness  of  purpose?     The  monument  he 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  307 

has  erected,  not  in  the  park  of  the  great  commercial 
metropolis  of  the  world,  but  in  the  hearts  of  thousands 
who  have  been  the  recipients  of  his  princely  gift,  will  sur- 
vive the  wreck  of  time. 

God  has  given  this  emotion  of  the  heart  to  man,  that  he 
might  do  good  in  the  world  in  which  he  has  been  placed. 
Were  he  ambitious  to  relieve  the  destitute,  to  cultivate  the 
arts  of  peace  instead  of  war,  to  send  Bibles  to  every  region, 
to  proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of  good  will  to  men  in  every 
place;  all  nations,  kindred  and  tongues,  long  before  this, 
would  have  been  marshaled  into  the  sacramental  hosts  of 
the  Prince  of  Peace.  If  aspiration  for  greatness  were 
directed  to  suppress  intemperance,  to  ameliorate  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  unfortunate,  to  reclaim  the  outcast  and  erring, 
there  would  not  be  a  land  in  the  course  of  the  sun,  nor  an 
island  washed  by  ocean  waves,  but  would  glow  with  indus- 
try and  beam  with  gladness.  The  Creator  is  a  beneficent 
being,  and  he  would  not  have  implanted  in  the  soul  a  de- 
sire for  greatness,  a  yearning  after  immortality,  if  he  did 
not  intend  it  for  man's  hio^hest  trood  both  in  time  and 
eternity. 

<-  The  beneficent  results  which  would  flow  from  true  ofreat- 
ness,  were  it  universally  exercised  as  God  intended  it 
should  be,  are  beyond  finite  conception.  AYrangling  and 
contention  would  cease;  the  earth  would  rejoice  in  golden 
harvests,  prisons  w^ould  fall  into  decay,  crime  and  corrup- 
tion w^ould  be  suppressed,  brotherly  love  would  flow  from 
heart  to  heart,  childhood  would  be  full  of  cheerfulness  and 
early  learn  the  name  of  Christ  and  the  way  of  life,  and  age 
with  hoary  locks  would  serenely  walk  to  the  quiet  tomb. 
Then  the  dreams  of  poets  and  predictions  of  prophets 
would  be  fully  realized,  the  gulden  age  would  again  be  re- 
stored, the  "  desire  of  all  nations"  would  dwell  among 
men,  and  under  Christ's  beneficent  reign  the  real  glories 
of  the  universe  and  the  character  of  our  God  be  more 
clearlv  known. 


308  ACTOBIOGRAPHY. 

This  is  a  world  of  conflict  in  which  the  nobler  faculties 
of  nature  are  at  war  with  evil  passions  and  wnth  the  powers 
of  darkness.  Our  feeble  efforts  and  short-sighted  plans 
are  inadequate  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  the  war- 
fare. It  requires  a  firm  will,  clear  mind,  invincible  deter- 
mination, pure  and  truthful  hearts,  to  aspire  after  that 
greatness  of  which  God  approves.  Could  we  fan  these 
thouorhts  into  a  livinfr  fire  in  the  hearts  of  the  vouufj^,  then 
would  a  moral  reformation  roll  across  the  land,  such  as 
has  not  been  witnessed  since  the  days  of  pentecost.  Ah, 
my  young  reader,  the  possibilities  before  you  are  grand. 
Will  you  grasp  them? 

But  I  resolved,  God  being  ray  helper,  to  go  just  as  far 
as  I  could;  do  the  very  best  I  knew  how;  spend  much 
time  in  secret  prayer,  asking  for  true  wisdom,  that  in  all 
my  writings  there  might  be  the  real  gospel  spirit,  that 
everything  might  be  written  in  love  and  with  a  pure  desire 
to  benefit  my  fellowmen.  I  worked  early  and  late,  and 
faithfully,  and  could  not  help  but  feel  if  a  pure  motive, 
honest  industry,  and  conscientious  dealing  were  ever  re- 
warded, I  ouorht  to  succeed  financiallv. 

I  also  looked  more  carefully  into  my  publishing  inter- 
ests. While  thus  investigating,  I  found  that  I  was  paying 
money  into  a  wealthy  but  unscrupulous  corporation.  So  I 
at  once  determined  to  get  from  under  this  unjust  oppres- 
sion, and  moved  from  the  Register  oftice  into  a  small  room, 
20x20,  in  Metropolitan  l)lock.  I  also  purchased  my  o^vn 
print  paper.  But  here  I  found  another  ditticulty,  namely, 
to  take  the  Censer  forms  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the 
other  to  get  them  printed,  as  I  had  no  press  of  my  own. 
However,  it  would  not  do  to  give  it  up,  so  I  suflfered  the 
inconvenience,  and  notwithstanding  my  inconveniences, 
issued  the  paper  with  great  promptness. 

At  this  ()j)portunc  moment  I  learned  that  the  oftice  of 
"  The   Cliurch^'^  a  religious  paper  published  at  Palo,  Ills., 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  309 

was  for  sale,  I  purchased  the  whole  concern,  running  in 
debt  fur  it.  The  reason  why  I  took  this  unwarranted  step 
was,  bj  the  transaction  I  secured  a  hand-press  upon  which 
I  purposed  to  print  the  Censer.  But,  after  moving  the 
press  to  Rockford,  and  after  expending  considerable  money 
in  procuring  the  necessary  fixtures,  and  setting  the  press  in 
position,  upon  trial,  to  my  great  disappointment,  I  could 
not  make  it  do  as  good  printing  as  I  found  it  tor  the  inter- 
est of  the  paper  to  do,  so  the  great  bulk  of  the  office  was 
dead  property  on  my  hands. 

I  became  very  depressed  in  mind,  and  the  cold  sweat 
started  from  every  pore  of  my  body  as  I  thought  of  the 
certain  ruin  which  would  crush  me  when  my  notes  came 
due.  If  a  man  wants  torture  of  mind,  let  him  have  all  his 
expectations  fall  to  ashes,  as  did  mine  in  the  trial  of  that 
hand  press,  and  he  will  know  what  it  is  to  suffer.  It  is 
somewhere  related  that  there  was  an  ingenious  torture 
which  consisted  of  a  cell,  which  at  the  prisoner's  first  en- 
trance presented  an  air  of  ease  and  comfort.  After  a  few 
days'  confinement  he  began  to  see  that  its  walls  were  grad- 
ually contracting.  The  discovery  once  made,  the  fact  be- 
came more  appalling  every  day.  Slowly,  but  terribly,  the 
sides  drew  closer,  and  the  unhappy  victim  was  at  last 
crushed  to  death.  What  an  emblem  was  this  of  my  condi- 
tion. Every  day  was  hastening  the  crisis  when  I  would 
be  crushed  by  debts  hastily  assumed,  and  the  purchase 
which  would  prove  worthless.  Well  it  would  not  do  to 
give  it  up,  so  I  worked  still  harder,  and  canvassed  for  the 
paper  with  a  determined  will  to  succeed,  and  the  good 
Lord  opened  a  way,  and  I  was  able  to  continue  the  paper 
and  meet  all  my  obligations. 

During  the  early  part  of  this  summer  the  office  of 
"  Words  for  Jesus^''  a  monthly  magazine,  published  by  the 
Lamont  Bros.,  in  the  city  of  Rockford,  was  offered  for  sale. 
I  purchased  this  also,  paying  cash.     The  Censer  now  had 


310  AUTOJilOGKAPHY. 

the  united  material  and  strengtli  of  two  additional  papers. 
In  the  meantime  I  was  paying,  as  fast  as  I  could,  for  the 
first  office  above  mentioned.     With  close  economy,  careful 
financiering,  and  by  paying  cash  for  everything  purchased, 
I  beo-an  to  gain  a  little  financially.     But  the  greatest  need 
was  a  printing  press.     I  would  never  permanently  succeed 
until  I  cut  ofi'  the  expense  of  hiring  my  printing  done  out 
of  the  oftice.     Besides,  it  was  a  great  inconvenience,  and 
an  injury  to  the  general  interests  of  the  paper,  for  on  mail- 
ing days  the  office  had  to  be  shut  up  while  the  Censer  force 
— editor  and  all — were  at  the  Register  office,  folding  and 
mailing  the  Censer.     Of  course,  when  patrons  visited  the 
office  on  these  days,  they  found  it  locked,  and  did  not  know 
where  to  find  us,  hence  I  lost  patronage  through  this  seem- 
in  o-  inattention  to  our  business,  though  I  could  not  help 
it.     A  press  I  needed,  a  press  I  must  have,  and  a  press  I 
resolved  to  have.     For  a  long  time  I  made  it  a  subject  of 
prayer,  and  when  the  opportune  time  presented  itself  I 
laid  the  matter  before   the  Censer  readers.     They — God 
bless  the  dear,  good  people! — responded  liberally,  in  con- 
tributing $474.76.     The  most  of  this  came  in  small  sums, 
and  some  of  it  from  the  little  boys  and  girls,  but  all  of  it 
was  very  gratefully  received.     About  §800  found  its  way 
into  the  bank  to  my  credit.     I  thought  that  this  might 
possibly  be  enough  as  a  first  payment  towards  the  needed 
press.     Accordingly  it  was  ordered,  and  expressly  built  for 
the  Censer  by  the  Cincinnati  Type  Foundry.     Though  it 
was  ordered  in  August,  yet  it  did  not  arrive  until  October. 
This  was  a  erreat  event  in  the  historv  of  the  Censer.     The 
press  cost  $1,500.     Of  this,  SSOO  was  paid  upon  delivery, 
and   the  press  mortgaged   for  the  remainder.     The  press 
once  in  position,  I  found   it  to  be  a  most  excellent  one, 
and  it   made   the  Censer  look  bright  and  cle;in.     I   also 
saved  $27  a  week  in  doing  my  own  work,  and  all  the  incon- 
veniences to  which  I  had  been  subjected.     With  the  aid  of 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  311 

the  press,  and  the  added  experience  in  financiering,  and 
studied  economy,  the  prospects  seemed  more  cheering  to 
me,  and  I  took  fresh  courage,  thanked  God  for  the  good 
success,  and  with  a  braver  heart  bent  to  my  work.  As  soon 
as  the  people  learned  that  I  had  a  press,  subscriptions 
poured  in  upon  me  from  every  direction.  It  did  seem  to 
me  that  the  tide  had  now  turned,  and  even  the  enemies  of 
the  Censer  believed  the  paper  would  live  for  "certain." 
The  months  glided  swiftly  along,  and  by  the  loth  of  Feb- 
ruary the  mortgage  was  lifted,  the  press  paid  for,  and  the 
Censer  once  more  out  of  debt.  Under  these  favorable  cir- 
cumstances the  3rd  volume  was  brought  to  a  close.  The 
year  was  a  very  successful  one,  for  I  had  paid  for  two 
offices  purchased — the  two  costing  §550 — and  $1,050,  §450 
being  donated,  on  the  new  press;  paid  all  my  financial 
obligations,  and  had  $1,150  to  my  credit  in  the  bank.  All 
this  was  accomplished  by  an  unwavering  trust  in  God, 
hard  work,  determined  perseverance,  and  without  advertise- 
ments in  the  paper. 

The  discouraging  question  is  often  put,  "  What  can  you 
accomplish?  The  world  is  very  large,  how  insignificant  a 
fraction  of  it  can  our  best  words  directly  afi:ect.  The 
minister  preaches  on  Sunday,  say,  to  three  hundred  hear- 
ers; how  meager,  therefore,  seems  the  result!"  Evidently 
to  calculate  the  eflect  is  not  our  business;  we  are  to  do  our 
duty.  Whether  men  heed  our  word,  or  whether  they  scofl:' 
at  it,  still  we  try  to  speak  it.  A  man  should  labor  just  the 
same  as  if  assured  that  the  salvation  of  the  whole  world 
depended  on  his  individual  efforts.  I  once  heard  a  poli- 
tician strike  the  key-note,  when  he  exclaimed:  "I  go  into 
this  campaign  as  if  I  fully  believed  that  on  my  eftort  the 
issue  of  the  election  depends!"  Thus,  in  the  three  years 
of  labor  on  the  Censer,  did  I  labor,  regardless  of  results. 
I  could  have  sat  down  many  times  and  given  up  had  I 
consulted  results.     Of  all  men  to  be  pitied,  it  is  that  class 


312  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

who  are  always  looking  for  results.  What  is  that  to  them 
or  to  me?  Our  duty  in  this  world  is  to  work.  God  will 
take  care  of  results.  Work,  work,  early  and  late,  with  a 
brave  heart,  a  strong  arm,  and  a  firm  faith.  God  will 
honor  such  Avork,  and  reward  the  laborer,  and  it  matters 
but  little  whether  we  see  the  reward  of  our  labor  in  this 
world  or  not.  This  is  the  law  of  our  being,  yea,  it  is  the 
voice  of  God  to  every  man — not  work,  not  eat.  God  gives 
the  soils,  the  seeds,  the  sun  and  the  rain.  He  makes  man 
do  the  rest — to  till,  to  sow,  to  gather  in,  to  harvest.  God 
goes  on  with  the  work  to  the  exact  place  where  man  should 
take  hold,  and  there  he  stops.  God  will  not  plant  one  hill 
of  corn  nor  build  one  mill  to  save  man.  The  whole  hu- 
man familj'  may  perish  if  it  will  not  work.  The  bird 
must  uLe  its  wina:s  and  the  fish  must  stir  its  fins,  to  secure 
their  food.  The  bee  must  leave  its  hive  for  honey;  and 
man  must  use  his  hands  and  brains  to  some  useful  purpose. 
This  is  the  law  of  Jehovah;  and  this  rule  holds  equally 
ffood  in  relio:i(Mis  thins^s.  God  builds  no  church  edifices — 
throws  no  wall  of  partition  around  a  church  because  it 
claims  to  be  his.  He  commands  every  church  to  work; 
and  it  must  work  or  die. 

But  I  had  other  higher  incentives  to  labor  for  God.  It 
was  to  bless  my  feliowmen,  and  to  glorify  my  heavenly 
Father  upon  the  earth.  I  often  get  tired  and  discouraged 
over  these  feeble  efibrts;  then  comes  the  thought  that 
eternity  will  be  long  enough  to  rest  in,  and  I  take  new 
courage,  and  renew  my  efforts. 

Heaven!  What  a  word!  It  comprises  within  its  syllables 
all  the  ideas  of  bliss,  and  is  the  perpetual  synonym  of 
every  term  of  rapture  or  delight.  It  is  the  highest  mean- 
ing of  whole  families  of  delicious  words.  It  is  home.  It 
is  rest.  It  is  refu^^e.  It  is  orlorv — the  o:lory  of  achieve- 
ment,  of  victory,  of  wealth,  of  authority,  of  personal 
splendor  and  ineffable  beauty,  of  strength,  of  exaltation, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  313 

of  wisdom,  of  honor,  of  unimpeachable  truth   and  purity, 
and  of  an  unspotted  holiness. 

Heaven  is  salvation — salvation  from  guilt,  from  fear, 
from  sorrow,  from  pain,  from  death;  a  salvation  positive  as 
well  as  negative — fruition  of  joy  as  well  as  deliverance 
from  penalty;  salvation  from  the  body  as  well  as  the  soul. 
It  is  a  house,  a  mansion — rather  ''  many  mansions" — a 
country,  a  city,  a  kingdom.  It  is 'the  general  assemblj, 
the  family  of  God,  the  church  of  the  iirst-born.  It  is  the 
casket  in  which  Jehovah  treasures  his  jewels,  the  divine 
pasturage  where  the  Almighty  feeds  his  flock,  and  leads 
them  to  fountains  of  living  water,  and  it  is  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb.  It  is  the  joy  of  the  returned  mariner, 
the  shout  of  harvest-home,  the  triumph  march  of  the  Re- 
deemer, the  coronation  of  the  Son  uf  God.  It  is  another 
Canaan  with  another  Joshua;  another  Eden  with  the  sec- 
ond Adam;  the  real  holy  of  holies,  with  its  priests  forever 
after  the  order  of  Melchisedec. 

Heaven  is  conscious,  personal  purity  during  each  mo- 
ment of  eternity;  it  is  blissful  association  with  the  moral 
heroes  of  every  age, — with  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles 
and  martyrs, — and  it  is  the  smile  of  God  forever.  It  is 
youth  perpetuated  without  indiscretion,  and  it  is  age  living 
on  to  everlasting  years  without  infirmity.  It  is  the  home- 
stead of  the  holy,  the  family  mansion  of  the  universal 
Father,  the  fatherland  of  Gabriel  and  Michael.  It  is  the 
goal  of  the  racer,  the  rest  of  the  pilgrim,  and  the  exceed- 
iug  great  reward  of  the  faithful;  the  country  where  none 
die,  or  are  sick  or  sorrowful,  or  unfortunate,  or  friendless 
— a  better  country.  A  land  in  whose  soil  grows  indige- 
nous the  tree  of  life;  a  scion  of  which  flourished  in  Eden 
till  the  fall;  where  there  is  a  day  without  night,  and  light 
without  the  sun,  and  ceaseless  action  without  fatigue. 

Heaven  is  the  congregation  of  the  glorified;  the  one 
hundred  fgrty   and  four  thousand  of  the  tribes  of  Israel, 


314  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

united  with  the  great  multitude  which  no  man  can  num- 
ber, of  all  nations  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and  tongues, 
standing  before  the  throne  and  before  the  lamb,  clothed 
with  white  robes  and  palms  in  their  hands,  and  crying  with 
a  loud  voice  saying,  "  Salvation  to  our  God  which  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb;"  while  all  the  angels 
which  stand  around  about  the  throne,  and  about  the  elders 
and  the  four  beasts,  fall  before  the  throne  on  their  faces, 
and  worship  God,  saying,  "  Amen,  blessing  and  glory,  and 
wisdom,  and  thanksgiving,  and  honor,  and  power,  and 
might,  be  unto  our  God,  forever  and  ever,  Amen." 

Ileaven  is  the  great  supper,  spread  by  the  Almighty  for 
his  family;  it  is  the  everlasting  union  and  repose  of  the 
saints;  it  is  the  Sabbath  of  eternity;  and  its  seat  is  the 
metropolis  of  creation,  the  council-chamber  of  the  celestial 
senate,  the  court  and  throne  of  Jehovah. 

All  terms  used  in  the  Scriptures  to  set  forth  "  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed  in  us,"  are  so  used  as  to  convey  a 
weight  of  meaning  beyond  their  usual  signification;  but 
still,  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  en- 
tered into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  that  God  hath 
■reserved  for  them  that  fear  him;"  for  he  is  able  to  do  in 
this  world,  exceedingly  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask 
or  think,  and  to  bestow  upon  us  in  the  next  "  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

"With  these  glorious  anticipations  in  full  view,  let  me 
toil  in  the  vineyard,  let  me  die  in  the  harness,  let  me  fall 
on  the  field,  let  me  climb  to  the  high  lands  of  Eden,  let 
me  stand  with  the  blood-washed,  let  me  sing  redemption's 
song,  let  me  see  the  tree  of  life  whose  leaves  are  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations,  let  me  see  that  immortal  stream 
ibsuing  from  the  throne  of  God,  rolling  its  crystal  river 
over  beds  of  gold,  let  me  see  the  angels  on  snowy  wings, 
let  me  see  my  blessed  Lord, — and  all  my  toils,  and  tears 
and   trials,   and   hoart-aches  will   ]~»ass    from  remembrance 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  315 

forever,  for  the  Lamb  shall  wipe  all  tears  away  and  lead  us 
by  fountains  of  living  waters. 

But  to  return,  volume  fourth  was  opened  under  very 
favorable  auspices,  with  a  new  title,  new  type,  enlarged, 
and  otherwise  improved,  and  was  issued  weekly.  Up  to 
this  time  it  had  been  issued  only  once  in  two  weeks.  From 
the  salutatory  of  that  year  I  give  the  following  extract: 

"  For  the  first  time  does  the  Golden  Censer  appear  as  a 
weekly  periodical.  We  have  long  and  patiently  toiled  to 
this  end.  The  object  of  our  ambition  is  now  attained, 
though  we  do  not  now  lay  down  the  oars  and  flow  with  the 
tide.  We  shall  throw  all  the  energy  of  life  into  our  work. 
It  is  dear  to  our  heart,  and  we  are  awfully  in  earnest  in 
this  work.  We  shall  hew  to  the  gospel  line,  let  the  chips 
fall  where  they  may.  This  is  our  purpose,  and  we  mean, 
God  being  our  helper,  to  carry  it  out. 

"We  are  glad  the  Censer  was  born  in  the  springtime,  in 
sweet  May,  the  loveliest  month  in  the  year,  when  over  the 
hills  and  through  the  valleys  the  rays  of  the  sun  come 
streaming,  while  on  the  mountains  and  in  the  forests 
nature's  orchestra  pours  forth  its  sweetest  song.  Had  we 
the  gift  of  the  poet  we  would  paint  the  beauties  of  the 
new-born  year  in  colors  of  living  light;  for  we  never  weary 
of  the  springtime  with  its  refreshing  showers,  balmy  breezes, 
and  sunny  hours.  How  we  love  to  watch  the  growing 
grass  on  the  lawn,  the  unfolding  leaves  in  the  grove,  the 
flowers  springing  into  beauty  all  around  us.  Oh,  the  rap- 
tures as  we  revel  amid  the  apple  and  cherry  blossoms,  and 
breathe  the  air  all  redolent  with  their  sweetness! 

It  is  amid  this  universal  resurrection  of  nature  into  life, 
and  the  glee  of  gladsome  hearts  wafted  on  tlie  morning 
air,  that  the  Golden  Censer  comes  to  its  numerous  readers, 
scattered  from  shore  to  shore,  living  in  city,  village,  and 
hamlet;  on  the  farm,  by  the  inland  rivers,  in  the  forests, 
and  on  the  prairies.     We  come  with  the  flush  ot  youth  up- 


316  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

on  our  cheek,  and  the  beacon  of  hope  in  our  heart.     We 
glorj  not  in  ourself,  but  in  tlie  cross  of  Jesus.     Our  pur- 
poses  all   center   there.     Had    we  a  thousand   lives,  they 
should    all  be   consecrated  to  our  Divine  Master.      It   is 
the  old,  old  story  we  shall  repeat.     We  are  earnest  and 
zealous — shall   exhort,   persuade,  entreat,  and   invite    the 
wandering,  strengthen   the  weak,  cheer  the   faltering,  en- 
courage the  desponding,  and  speak  words  of  sympathy  to 
the  sorrowing.     We  shall  be  bold  and  fearless  in  combat- 
ing intemperance  and  the  popular  amusements  of  the  day. 
It  was  the  firm,  unwavering  adherence  to  the  plain  old 
truths  that  made  tlie  Censer  so  unpopular  and  despised. 
But  I  could  not  help  it.     I  would  not  lower  the  standard 
to  please  a  pleasure-loving  world.     It  was  the  glory  of  one 
of  the  apostles  to  boldly  declare,  despite  the  unpopularity 
and  the  contumely,  that  he  was  not  ashamed  of  the  gospel 
of  Christ.     Would   that   the  same  thing  could  truthfully 
be  said  of  all  ministers  and  religious  editors.     Doubtless 
the  reader  has  not  failed  to  notice  the  unrest  and  feverish 
anxiety  on  the  part  of  some  theologians  of  to-day  for  a 
better  form  of  stating  truth  than  we  have  always  employed. 
Even  the  president  of  a  college  under  the  patronage  of  one 
of    the    most   reliable   branches   of    the   church,  recently 
labored  to  show  that  Christianity  needed  "new  phases,"  a 
gospel  "which  asks  nothing  of  faith  which  reason  cannot 
grant,"  or,  in  other  words,  a  religion  of  reason,  a  religion 
of    the    head.      And    thus  our   professedly-acknowledged 
teachers  take  butterfly  chases  after  the  milder  foi'ms  of  in- 
fidelity and  evolutionism,  seeming]}^  forgetful  that  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ  is  not  to  heal  men's  heads  but  men's  hearts. 
It  would  seem  that  the  religious  world  is  laboring  to  find 
out  some  new  way  to  salvation  other  than  repentance  and 
faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     But  there  is  none  other 
way.     The  Scriptures  declare  that  there  is  no  other  name 
under  heaven   than  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  whereby  we 


PERSONAL    KECOLLKCTIONS.  317 

can  be  saved.  He  that  seeks  some  other  entrance  into  the 
kingdom  than  by  the  door,  the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  rob- 
ber. 

I  am  simple  enoiiffh  and  trustful  enouo-h  to  desire  none 
Other  gospel  than  the  one  in  which  the  apostles  gl6rified, 
the  one  which  saved  the  early  church,  the  one  promulgated 
by  the  reformers,  the  one  that  has  cheered  thousands  of 
souls  now  in  glory,  the  one  that  our  fathers  loved.  I  know 
it  hurts  the  proud,  sinful  heart;  but  it  hurts  only  to  heal. 
It  convicted  the  erring  Peter;  it  struck  blind  the  bold  and 
defiant  Saul,  while  yet  breathing  out  threatening  and 
slaughter  against  the  church  at  Damascus;  but  it  healed 
them.  It  is  the  two-edged  sword  that  pierces  the  heart, 
but  it  only  cuts  out  the  root  of  bitterness.  I  am  glad  that 
it  has  virtue  enough  to  heal  the  most  depraved  sinner. 
This  world  of  sin  needs  just  such  a  gospel.  Its  severity 
in  handling  sin  is  exceeded  by  the  peaceable  fruits  of  right- 
eousness which  it  always  brings  forth  in  the  heart  upon 
which  it  operates. 

When  I  experimentally  know  what  this  gospel  can  do, 
and  what  it  has  done,  I'm  grieved  at  these  theological  trim- 
mers whose  crime  is  not  so  much  that  they  abolish  hell  as 
that  by  their  religion  of  reason  they  destroy  the  prosjoects 
of  heaven — for  heaven  is  not  a  place  of  rest  for  reason  as  a 
rest  from  sin. 

It  is  to  be  devoutly  hoped  that  the  "ism"  period  is  about 
at  an  end;  that  the  religion  of  science,  of  reason,  of  geology, 
and  of  speculation  will  soon  have  finished  their  career  in 
disturbing  and  distracting  the  minds  of  the  people. 

An  eminent  writer  of  extended  observation  says:  "The 
masses  are  beginning  to  turn  from  nostrums  to  the  old,  old 
story,  and  to  ask  for  something  genuine.  Rhetorical 
chemists  and  book-making  naturalists  have  coined  their 
hypotheses  into  currency,  and  are  retreating  from  their 
rash   opinions.     Now   is   the  opportunity  for  the    weak- 


3  IS  AUTOBIOGRAPPY. 

kneed  Christians  to  cuine  back,  repent,  believe  and  cling 
to  the  old  gospel.  Preachers  who  have  made  capital  out 
of  abusing  scripture  and  slurring  Christ  and  trimming  for 
skeptics,  are  feeling  the  influence  of  the  tidal  wave,  and 
begin  to  tack  for  the  change  of  wind. 

There  is  nothing  so  powerful  or  enduring  as  truth.  It 
wins  respect  and  retains  it.  The  Christian  army  needs  to 
be  advanced  all  along  the  line.  IndifFerentism  is  not 
liberalism.  Men  of  straw  must  be  displaced  by  men  of 
grit  and  godliness.  The  sinfulness  of  sin  and  its  inherent 
damnation  must  be  fearlessly  set  forth.  It  is  the  highest 
use  of  the  element  of  fear  to  halt  a  man  until  Christ's  love 
can  lav  hold  of  him.  We  need  the  unadulterated  Bible 
spirit — the  gospel  Saviour."  It  is  this  gospel  that  will 
save  the  nation,  and  not  another. 

If  men  would  only  lay  aside  their  speculations,  and  give 
their  united  and  hearty  support  to  this  gospel,  what  mark- 
ed changes  would  take  place!  Instead  of  the  cold  and 
heartless  formalism,  a  new  life  and  a  new  energy  would 
pulsate  through  the  Christian  church,  selfishness  and  in- 
difference would  give  place  to  warm,  glowing  hearts,  un- 
fruitful lives  would  be  baptised  with  the  Holy  Ghost, 
closed  lips  would  be  unsealed,  tongues  touched  by  the  altar- 
fires  of  Jehovah  would  permeate  every  community  into  life 
and  beauty.  Instead  of  the  unbelief,  the  distrust,  the 
doubts,  the  hesitancy  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  never 
come  to  this  gospel  fountain,  there  would  be  confidence, 
faith  and  ready  and  open  hearts  for  the  inception  of  the 
truth. 

These  are  no  idle  speculations,  but  verities  attested  by 
all  past  history,  observation,  and  experience.  Let  us  then 
glory  in  the  gospel  of  Christ,  and  not  be  ashamed  to  con- 
fess it  before  the  world.  And  why  should  we  be  ashamed? 
Shame  is  the  first  and  surest  evidence  that  we  have  not  the 
genuine   article.      Ashamed    of    my    Lord!     God  forbid. 


TEKSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  319 

Ashamed  to  confess  before  the  world  that  I  an  heir  to  the 
kingdom  to  come!  Heaven  forgive  the  offense.  O  God 
help  us  to  throw  open  wide  the  doors  of  these  stifled  and 
almost  lifeless  hearts  of  ours,  and  let  the  sunlight  of  right- 
eousness come  in,  £hat  its  heavenly  beams  may  energize 
them  into  new  life  and  beauty. 

During  this  summer  1  built  me  a  residence  at  an  ex- 
pense of  $1,^:00.  The  reader  will  remember  that  I  invest- 
ed $650  the  first  year  in  a  house.  The  whole  at  that  time 
cost  me  $1,200,  which,  added  to  the  above,  made  my  resi- 
dence worth  $2,600.  And  right  here  let  me  say  that,  al- 
though a  homeless  wanderer  up  to  this  time,  yet  no  one 
loves  a  happy  cheerful  home  more  than  the  writer.  I  al- 
ways hoped  I  would  be  prospered  enough  to  procure  the 
longing  of  my  nature,  and  now  I  was  living  in  the  full  re- 
alization my  hopes. 

But,  let  me  pause  here  and  bring  up  another  thread  of 
my  narrative.  In  the  autumn  of  1870,  1  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  young  lady  whose  general  bearing — for 
young  men  must  receive  their  first  impressions  from  gen- 
eral views — were  in  keeping  with  my  ideas  of  what  a  wife 
should  be.  I  sought  her  company,  and  was  favorably  re- 
ceived. After  a  pleasant  acquaintance  and  courtship  of 
nearly  a  year,  we  were  united  in  the  bonds  of  matrimony 
by  the  Eev.  C.  Brookins,  September  20th,  1871.  The 
reader  will  remember  that  Rev.  C.  Brookins  was  my  pas- 
tor while  living  at  Rochelle.  He  also  received  me  into 
the  communion  of  the  church  while  at  Eochelle.  In  this 
age,  when  many  young  men  seek  wealthy  fathers-in-law, 
rather  than  to  work  out  their  own  character  and  fortune 
by  hard,  honest  toil,  and  to  enjoy  the  industry  of  their  own 
hands,  let  me  add  that  I  considered  it  beneath  the  dignity 
of  true  manhood  to  thus  court  the  lap  of  indolence,  and 
hence  I  sought  my  companion  from  the  humble  walks  of 
life,  who  was  thereby  qualified  to  struggle  with  me  amid 


320  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

adverse  circumstances.  And  in  this  I  have  not  been  dis- 
appointed, for  in  the  events  whicli  I  am  about  to  narrate, 
she  stood  up  bravely,  denied  herself,  and  in  a  womanly 
manner  bore  unr  common  distress  witli  fortitude,  often 
cheering  me  when  it  looked  so  dark  without  by  hopeful 
words  and  rigid  economy,  preferring  to  suffer  with  me,  to 
lamenting  lier  sad  choice  in  the  selection  of  an  editor  for  a 
husband,  who  was  blessed  with  nothing  but  poverty. 

But  the  Censer  was  growing  and  our  quarters  became 
too  contracted.  Hence,  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  the  Cex- 
SER  was  removed  to  Shaw's  block,  into  a  room  22x30. 
This  was  not  quite  what  I  wanted,  but  was  the  best  I  could 
obtain. 

The  summer  passed  into  autumn,  and  autumn  in  turn 
gave  place  to  winter.  When  the  cold,  bitter  days  came,  I 
found  my  quarters  most  miserably  calculated  for  a  print- 
ing office,  and  ■  more  than  once  I  had  to  let  my  employes 
abandon  their  work,  and  seek  warmer  quarters,  and  hence, 
I  was  greatly  hindered  in  my  work,  especially  through  the 
holidays. 

And  this  brings  us  to  another  ^ew  Year,  when  we  are 
wont  to  pause  in  the  journey  of  life  and  look  back  over  the 
year,  and  note  the  progress  we  have  made.  Wliat  a  won- 
derful personage  is  old  Father  Time,  with  his  remorseless 
scythe  and  hour-glass,  measuring  off  the  years  and  cutting 
down  the  flowers,  no  matter  whether  just  unfolding  or 
full-blown.  How  insignificant  is  a  year  to  him.  Grim 
with  age,  and  gray  with  the  frosts  of  sixty  centuries,  lie  sits, 
deep  in  the  dim  and  misty  aisles  and  sepulchres  of  the 
past,  where  the  white  tombstone  marks  the  mounds  raised 
over  the  buried  years,  weaving  the  shrouds  of  departed 
ages.  Around  him  stand  the  now  unheeded  years,  filled 
with  the  memories  of  long  lapsed  deeds  of  centuries  of 
crime,  of  blood,  of  wrong;  memories  mingled  with  hopes 
and  fears,  with   cares  and  j«)ys,  with   the   history   of  our 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  321 

meek  and  lovely  Saviour,  witli  his  perfect  love  and  walk, 

with  salvation  full   and   free   for  a  perishing  world,  with 

prophesies  and  thoughts  too  vast  for  comprehension. 

The   dying  year  is  but  a  grain  of  sand  to  time's  vast 

ocean,  but  one  journey  around  the  sun,  but  a  link  in  the 

chain  of  eternity,  yet  how  full  of  human  frailties,  of  fields 

of  blood,  of  untimely  graves,  of  midnight  revelry,  of  cold 

assassins,  of  ruined  lives,  of  lost  hopes,  of  tears  bitter  and 

heartbreaking,  of  untimely  graves,  of  sorrow  and  anguish 

— all   the  natural  fruits  of  dire  sin,  the   fell  monster  of 
darkness — the  destroyer  of  our  happiness. 

But  hark!  upon  the  gale,  the  wintry  demon  bears  a  dole- 
ful sound — the  funeral  tones  of  death.  The  year  is  dying 
— is  going  with  the  molderi ng  relics  of  unnumbered  ages 
to  rest  beside  antiquity,  to  be  forgotten,  to  be  forever  dead, 
though  freighted  with  the  souls  of  those  who  have  taken 
their  flight  to  vonder  world  of  light  and  beauty  to  live 
with  him  who  giveth  the  waters  of  life  freely.  Oh  I  shall 
we  not  pause  to  drop  a  tear  in  the  ashes  of  the  dying  year? 
Oh!  how  hard  to  die  unwept  and  unlamented.  The  year 
hath  wrought  its  mission,  hath  given  us  bountifully  of  na- 
ture's productions,  hath  filled  our  store-houses  with  grain, 
hath  cheered  the  hearts  of  the  children  of  men.  Yes,  we 
wall  raise  our  hearts  in  grateful  thanks  for  the  fruitage  and 
vintasre  of  the  dvino^  vear. 

Midnight's  solemn  silences  come  o'er  the  slumbering 
world,  the  hour  hand  moves  on  the  dial,  and  the  pendulum 
swings  forward  into  the  !N^ew  Year!  We  know  not  what 
w^ill  be  the  history  of  this  youthful  visitor — whether  good 
or  bad.  But  as  we  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  this  Kew 
Year,  let  us  pause  for  a  moment  and  brush  away  the  cob- 
webs of  selfishness  which  may  have  gathered  around  our 
lives;  let  us  step  out  into  nobler  actions,  let  us  think  less 
of  self,  more  of  our  fellowmen,  more  of  Jesus  and  of  God, 
let  us  live  for  a  purpose  which  shall  draw  down  heavenly 
21 


S'2'2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

benedictions  upon  us;  let  us  open  our  hearts,  full  and  free, 
and  extend  a  friendly  hand  of  mutual  greeting.  Thus  will 
the  dawning  year  make  glad  the  pure  and  true-hearted, 
the  constant  and  the  good. 

And  what  a  time  is  this  in  which  to  form  resolutions  of 
amendment — and  to  carry  them  out  too — to  guard  well 
our  words,  to  set  in  motion  such  a  train  of  influences  as 
shall  bless  us  in  the  day  of  eternity.  It  is  said  of  a  dying 
prodigal,  when  he  found  the  last  grain  of  sand  liad  slipped 
through  the  hour-glass  that  he  exclaimed:  "  Gather  up  my 
influence  and  bury  it  with  me!"  Alas  I  vain  request,  this 
were  a  thing  impossible.  There  is  no  winding-sheet  so 
strong  as  to  hold  the  forces  of  influence  let  loose  in  our 
lives;  no  graves  so  deep  that  they  can  cover  the  ever-in- 
creasing and  ever-ripening  fruits  of  our  lives'  actions.  A 
pebble  tossed  into  the  ocean  moves,  though  imperceptibly 
to  us,  the  world.  The  influence  of  the  voice  of  the  chirp- 
ing birds  stirs  the  aerial  ocean  in  all  its  vastness.  A  word 
spoken,  a  frown  or  a  smile,  a  look  or  a  token,  a  silence  or 
an  utterance,  lives  on  throughout  all  time,  ever  onward 
and  increasing  in  its  influence  for  weal  or  for  woe.  If  the 
dying  youth  had  requested  that  the  free  winds  be  bound  in 
gossamer,  the  mad  waves  of  the  ocean  be  chained  with 
cords  of  ether,  the  lurid  lightning  to  be  chased  down  by 
the  sloth,  or  any  other  impossible  thing,  his  wish  would 
not  have  been  more  absolutely  unfeasible.  "  Bury  my  in- 
fluence!" Ah!  'twere  impossible!  Blot  out  my  markings 
from  the  bulletin  board  of  human  actions!  It  cannot  be 
done.  No  stream  of  influence,  whether  it  be  the  filtering 
vein  of  obscurity  or  the  torrent  of  popular  power,  shall 
ever  be  wholly  restrained.  All!  all  live  on,  and  live  for 
aye!  O  Great  Father,  what  a  responsibility  falls  upon  me! 
Who  is  able  to  render  his  account!  The  words  of  my  mouth 
sound  forever  along  the  aerial  aisle  of  trackless  ether,  the 
stroke  of  my  hand  produces  an   impulse  that  will  be  felt 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  323 

through  all  space,  and  all  time.  The  things  done  in 
secret  shall  be  sounded  from  the  house-tops  of  the  judg- 
ment. Men,  angels,  and  God  shall  know  all  my  doings. 
If  the  results  were  confined  to  myself  and  to  my  direct 
acts,  I  might  be  less  careful  as  to  my  course.  But  all  that 
I  am  and  all  that  I  do  is  multiplied  and  intensified  a  myr- 
iad times  upon  earth's  present  and  future  population.  My 
influence,  however  humble  my  station,  will  sweep  on  for- 
ever. Eternity  alone  can  measure  the  full-grown  results 
of  my  smallest  action. 

With  such  reflections  as  these  I  try  to  be  very  careful 
in  the  editing  of  the  Censer,  to  let  its  pages  be  consecrat- 
ed to  gospel  truths  and  a  holy  Christianity. 

But  the  year  passed  pleasantly  away.  I  was  able  to  meet 
all  my  expenses,  and  publish  the  paper  weekly  at  $1-00  per 
year  without  a  single  advertisement.  This  was  considered 
quite  an  undertaking,  and  I  must  confess  I  had  some  doubts 
as  to  my  ability  to  give  so  much  reading  at  such  a  small 
cost,  but  I  felt  my  way  cautiously  and  trusted  in  God  for 
results.  It  was  true,  at  the  close  of  this  year  I  could  not 
show  so  large  bank  credits,  but  I  was  quite  satisfied  with 
the  results,  for  I  had  established  the  fact  that  a  religious 
paper  can  be  sustained  without  advertisements,  and  at  a 
subscription  price  within  the  means  of  the  poorest.  By 
turning  to  the  last  number  of  Yol.  -ith,  I  find  these  words 
in  its  closing  editorials,  "  It  will  be  remembered  by  those 
who  read  our  salutatory  four  years  ago,  that  in  the  first 
number  of  tlie  Golden  Censer  issued,  we  lifted  up  a  stan- 
dard against  worldliness,  formality,  card- playing,  raffling, 
church  lotteries,  dancing  Christians,  theater-going  church 
members,  wine-bibbing  professors,  the  horrid  rum  traflic, 
and  all  the  follies  and  extravagances  that  follow  in  the  train 
of  fashion.  That  we  have  not  lowered  our  standard  or 
tempered  our  words  to  please  worldly  professors  of  reli- 
gion, but  have,  to   the  best  of  our  ability,  fulfilled  our 


324:  AUTOBIOGRAPnY. 

pledges,  we  are  sure  our  readers  will  attest.  Our  views 
remain  unchanged.  AVe  still  believe  that  a  cheap  paper  in 
the  interests  of  Christianity,  pure  and  free  from  all  worldly 
interests,  is  a  want  which  the  age  demands,  and  that 
j>lainness  of  speech  in  regard  to  the  vanities  and  follies 
that  are  eating  out  the  sj^iritual  life  of  the  church,  is 
needed,  and  that  it  has  pleased  the  Master  to  call  us  to 
this  important  mission." 

Volume  fifth  opened  under  discouraging  circumstances. 
The  paper  was  so  radical  upon  many  points  that  it  lost 
public  favor.  For  my  faithful,  earnest  appeals  to  a  pure, 
holy  life,  I  received  hundreds  of  insulting,  coarse  and  obscene 
letters.  But  I  toiled  patiently  on  amid  my  discourage- 
ments, trusting  in  God. 

Despite  the  perplexities  of  ofiice  cares  and  troubles  in 
meetinfi:  mv  financial  obliocations,  I  still  continued  mv 
labors  among  the  people,  preaching  the  gospel.  A  service 
always  given  gratuitously  on  my  part — and  sometimes  pay- 
ing my  traveling  expenses  besides. 

One  Sabbath  I  had  an  appointment  some  fifteen  miles 
away  from  Hockford.  I  had  to  take  an  early  start  in  order 
to  reach  it  in  time  for  the  morning  services.  My  way  was 
along  the  west  bank  of  Rock  Eiver.  In  the  quiet  of  a  Sab- 
bath day,  myself  and  wife  set  out  in  a  carriage  to  the  place 
of  preaching.  The  morning  was  lovely.  The  sun  shone 
never  more  brightly  on  spire,  dome  and  dwelling.  The 
great  machineries  of  the  world  were  hushed,  the  streets 
deserted,  and  the  smoke  of  furnaces  had  cleared  away,  and 
Hockford  quietly  rested  embowered  with  the  foliage  of  her 
shade-trees,  her  beautiful  flower  gardens  and  creeping  vines. 
Truly  this  is  the  Sabbath,  and  our  citizens  respect  God's 
command,  "Remember  the  Sabbath,  to  keep  it  holy."  On 
through  the  citv  and  out  into  the  countrv  we  held  our  wav. 
(3h,  how  fresh  the  morning  air!  how  sublime  the  country! 
Behold  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  325 

Fields  stand  dressed  in  livinfr  2:reenl 


"O    o* 


Far  to  the  southwest  stretch  away  the  rich,  varied,  waving 
plains.  Passing  farm-houses,  lawns,  orchards,  fields,  rum- 
inating herds,  and  pasture  lands,  we  entered  a  beautiful 
grove,  and,  presently,  we  came  in  sight  of  towering  cliffs, 
at  once  grand  and  sublime.  At  our  left  the  river  winded 
away  until  it  was  lost  to  our  sight  among  the  hills.  Its 
bordering  slopes,  like  a  frill  on  the  green  robe  of  the  earth, 
rolled  back  on  either  side  in  their  undulations  until  earth 
and  sky  kiss  each  other;  gurgling  brooks  hummed  along 
their  channels;  flowers  bloomed  and  breathed  forth  their 
fragrance ;  the  birds  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  sing- 
ing their  sweetest  songs  for  our  special  benefit,  and  the 
gentle  puffs  of  fragrant  atmosphere  from  over  the  waters 
of  the  inland  river  fanned  our  brow.  Heaven  seemed  let 
down  to  earth  as  we  journeyed  amid  such  charming  sur- 
roundings. 

While  thus  traveling,  I  mused.  I  thought  of  life  with 
all  its  solemn  realities  and  weighty  responsibilities,  of  the 
struggles  and  the  moral  conflicts  through  which  the  child 
of  grace  must  pass.  Look  at  earth  in  its  most  pleasing 
aspect;  it  has  dark  and  frowning  clouds,  its  disappoint- 
ments, and  heart-breaking  dispensations.  There  is  not  a 
rose,  be  it  ever  so  fair,  but  that  has  its  thorn.  Often,  in 
the  most  lovely  and  innocent  flower,  we  find  a  worm  gnaw- 
ing away  at  its  life.  So  sin  mars  and  defaces  God's  uni- 
verse. And  yet,  how  true  it  is,  notwithstanding  the 
adverse  circumstances  which  meet  us  at  every  turn  in  life, 
for  how  many  things  do  the  children  of  men  long  and  toil, 
as  if  there  were  no  higher  aspirations,  or  a  land  more 
beautiful  than  earth,  and  why  do  they?  What  is  there- in 
or  about  these  cherished  objects,  which  makes  them  so 
desirable,  and  prompts  to  such  continued  action  for  them? 
It  is  because  it  is  iniaginod  they  have  in  them  the  ele- 


32G  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ments  ot'o^ood,  because  they  promise  liappiness.  But  liow 
far  can  they  do  this?  How  far  is  it  pretended  that  tliey 
can?  Can  tliey  remove  tears,  the  pangs  of  sorrow,  the 
bitterness  of  afflictions?  Can  even  the  gratifications  of 
hixurj  do  it?  Can  wealth  do  it?  Can  honor  do  it?  Can 
amusement  do  it?  No  indeed.  Tliey  have  no  such  potency. 
Miserable  comforters  are  they  all.  Lull  to  rest  the  aching 
head  they  cannot;  soothe  the  anguish  of  the  mind  they 
cannot;  close  the  fountains  of  grief  they  cannot.  Tears  are 
wept  by  the  possessor  of  millions,  by  the  votaries  of  plea- 
sure, by  the  laureled  hero,  by  the  monarch  on  his  throne. 
"When  despair  would  brood  in  midnight  darkness  over 
the  human  family,  oh,  blessed  Hope,  sweet  messenger  of  the 
skies,  thou  dost  point  us  to  him  who  alone  exists  pure!  the 
Being  who  made  angels  honored  and  lovely,  refulgent  with 
the  beauties  of  holiness;  the  Mighty  One  who  brooded 
upon  chaos  when  darkness  covered  it,  and  educed  from 
that  rude  and  shapeless  mass  harmony  and  life;  the  Sov- 
ereign God,  who  made  man  in  his  own  image,  after  his 
own  likeness;  the  Saviour  who,  by  his  truth  and  grace,  is 
recovering  the  earth  from  the  blighting  effects  of  the 
apostasy;  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  the  only 
wise,  who  dwelleth  in  light  inaccessible  and  full  of  glory, 
whose  will  is  sovereign,  whose  smile  is  life,  and  whose 
frown  is  death.  He  it  is,  this  blessed,  supreme,  glorious 
God-man,  who  was  touched  with  our  infirmities,  who 
groaned  within  himself  at  human  misery,  who  wept  at  the 
irrave  and  on  Olivet,  this  ever-blessed  Jesus  will  welcome 
us  to  the  summer  hills  of  paradise  and  show  to  us  the 
kingdoms  of  eternity,  and  lead  us  to  the  pure,  sparkling 
fountains  of  living  water.  In  the  glory  land,  amid  the 
summer  hills  of  paradise,  "God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes:"  eyes  that  are  to  be  moistened  no  more 
with  grief,  but  are  to  sparkle  forth  with  happiness  f<>revcr! 
And  this   removal  of  tears  will  l)e  complete.      Kot  those 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  327 

caused  by  sickness  and  pain  merely;  not  those  caused  by 
losses  merely;  not  those  caused  by  bereavements  merely, 
or  by  scenes  of  evil,  or  by  indwelling  corruption,  or  by 
Satanic  assaults;  but  all  tears,  however  caused,  he  wipes 
away.  No  mental  darkness,  no  mental  depression,  no  shat- 
tered nerves,  no  physical  suffering,  no  calamity,  no  foul 
enemy,  no  disturbing  sight,  sound  or  sensation^  generates 
a  tear!  They  are  wiped  away  by  a  Heavenly  Father's  hand, 
all  wiped  away.  These  tears  are  removed  forever.  "  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes;  and  there  shall 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall 
there  be  any  more  pain;  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away."  We  might  expect  that  when  tears  are  wiped  by  a 
Heavenly  Father's  hand  they  would  be  wiped  effectually, 
and  not  come  again.  And  they  will  not.  Tears  that  are 
gone  are  among  the  things  which  have  been  and  are  not 
aofain  to  be.  "  The  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and 
shall  come  with  singing  unto  Zion,  and  everlasting  joy 
shall  be  upon  their  heads;  they  shall  obtain  the  gladness 
and  joy,  and  sorrow^  and  sighing  shall  flee  away." 

No  chilling  winds  nor  poisonous  breath 

Shall  reach  that  healthful  shore ; 
Sickness  and  sorrow,  pain  and  death, 

Are  felt  and  feared  no  more. 

What  can  be  more  blessed  than  a  full  realization  of 
what  is  comprehended  in  the  wiping  away  of  all  tears?  If 
God  would  have  the  minds  of  his  people  rest  with  delight 
on  anticipations  of  future  joys,  how  could  he  better  effect 
this  than  by  giving  ^hem  a  vision  of  the  summer  hills 
of  paradise,  the  iS^ew  Jerusalem  as  their  promised  home, 
and  tell  them  that  in  that  pure  and  beautiful  land  there 
wall  be  no  more  death,  or  sorrow,  or  tears?  Tears  we  have 
seen  come  from  sin,  as  streams  from  their  fountain.  To 
say,  then,  that  in  that  blessed  abode  all  tears  will  be  wiped 


328  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

away,  i.s  to  tay  that  all  tlie  effects  uf  the  apostasy  will  there 
cease,  paradise  be  regained,  the  blessings  of  the  first  Eden 
be  restored,  and  all  the  struggles,  conflicts  and  sorrows  of 
the  Christian  terminate  in  victory  and  bliss.  And  this 
bright  prospect  Israel's  hosts  have.  To  this  they  are  au- 
thorized and  encouraged  to  look  forward.  A  city  compar- 
ed to  a  richly  attired  bride  adorned  for  her  husband,  is 
made  ready  for  their  residence.  With  an  eye  of  faith  we 
can  even  now  behold  it  "  coming  down  from  God  out  of 
heaven;"  and  a  comforting,  animating  prospect  it  is  for  us 
in  the  present  world  of  funeral  processions,  disapj^oint- 
ments,  griefs  and  tears.  On  the  summer  liills  of  paradise 
there  is  health  instead  of  sickness,  pleasure  instead  of  pain, 
songs  instead  of  groans,  anthems  instead  of  anguish. 

"What  a  contrast,  then,  does  not  this  world  aiford  when 
compared  with  the  home  of  the  redeemed.  And  is  it  not 
infinite  gain  to  leave  a  place  like  this  sin-smitten  earth  for 
a  place  like  that?  Here  the  children  of  God  are  "  born 
unto  trouble;"  here  pains,  infirmities,  and  diseases  invade 
them;  here  mental  and  manual  labor  and  fatigue  are  theirs; 
here  "their  souls  are  sick  with  every  day's  report  of  wrong 
and  outrage;"  here,  the  world  and  the  flesh  try  them,  and 
Satan  buflets  them;  here,  "  they  groan,  being  burdened," 
their  eyes  often  filled  with  tears,  and  their  hearts  wrung 
with  sorrow.  IIow  much  better  to  lay  aside  all  these,  to 
pass  from  them,  go  whither  they  shall  never  sufl'er,  or  sigh, 
or  weej)  any  more,  ascend  into  heaven,  pass  into  glory. 
Happy  exchange!  Who  can  wonder  that  those  having  a 
well-grounded  hope  of  such  an  inheritance,  a  lively  view 
of  these  blessed  realities,  are  ready  to  leave  this  "  vale  of 
tears,"  consider  it  "  gain  "  so  to  do,  say  that  "it  is  better, 
lar  better,"  than  to  linger  longer  here  below?  Who  can 
wonder  that  dying  in  full  prospect  of  this  Jerusalem  above, 
as  Moses  died  on  Pisgah's  top  in'  prospect  of  the  eartlily 
Canaan,  they  should  be  ready  to  be  ofibred,  depart  in  peace, 
nnv.  vnfh  joy  and  trinni]>lr? 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  329 

Oh,  the  beautiful  Eden  land!  maj  the  contemplation  of 
thy  everlasting  joys  engage  all  our  ransomed  souls.  May 
the  beautiful  prospect  of  those  vernal  hills,  bathed  in  the 
snnlight  of  eternity,  fill  our  hearts  with  longings  which 
heaven  alone  can  satisfy.  Oh,  may  it  be  our  happy  lot  to 
enter  upon  the  triumphant  and  rapturous  state  of  God's 
ransomed,  renewed,  and  glorified  people. 

There  shall  you  bathe  your  weary  soul 

In  seas  of  heavenly  rest; 
And  not  a  wave  of  trouble  roll 

Across  your  peaceful  breast. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  mind, 
turning  a  bend  in  the  road  the  spires  of  Byron  appeared  to 
full  view,  the  village  itself  being  half  hid  from  me  by  the 
rich  foliage  intervening.  Upon  my  arrival  I  delivered 
God's  message.  Thence  I  went  to  Westfield,  and  again 
preached  the  gospel  to  an  attentive  and  intelligent  congre- 
gation; and  thence  home,  feeling  that  the  day  had  been 
spent  in  glorifying  my  Heavenly  Father  upon  the  earth. 

But,  as  before  observed,  the  paper  was  fast  sinking. 
The  gloomy  prospect  nearly  destroyed  my  peace  of  mind 
and  discourao^ed  and  disheartened  me.  The  circulation 
ran  down  to  a  mere  handful,  and  I  had  expended  all  my 
resources — save  my  home — upon  its  continuance.  Every 
issue  increased  my  accumulating  debts.  JSTo  one  but  my- 
self knew  the  terrible  state  of  thino^s  existino^  in  the  ofiice. 
I  asked  for  credit  everywhere  I  had  occasion  to  make  a 
purchase,  for  money  I  had  none.  Even  the  employes  in 
the  ofiice  were  asked  to  wait  for  their  wages.  By  the  first 
of  ISTovember  I  was  $2,000  in  debt,  and  every  week  plunged 
me  $100  deeper,  and  no  prospect  of  getting  out.  Driven 
by  desperation.  I  spent  nearly  a  day  in  the  vain  attempt  to 
borrow  $100.  But  it  was  useless.  Xo  one  would  trust 
me.     My  paper-maker  refused  to  furnish  me  longer  with 


o30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

print  paper.  AYliat  could  I  do?  I  went  here  and  tliere 
among  my  few  personal  friends  and  borrowed  $17 — all  I 
could  obtain,  and  with  this  I  went  to  my  paper-maker  and 
pleaded  for  paper. 

I  confess  it  took  nerve  to  stand  up  under  all  this  and  to 
look  men  in  the  face  without  feeling  degraded.  Only  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ  saved  me  from  losing  confidence 
in  men.     Oh,  it  was  so  dark  I 

.  However,  in  my  distress,  1  did  not  mistrust  the  good- 
ness of  God,  or  lose  faith  in  the  work  the  Censer  was  do- 
ing. Perhaps  it  was  expedient  that  I  should  have  this 
trial  of  faith.  It  seemed  I  had  come  to  that  crisis  in  the 
paper  that  help  must  come,  or  the  paper  sink  for  the  want 
of  support.  I  had  deprived  myself  of  even  the  necessarv 
clothing.  My  wife  had  hardly  a  change.  She  even  thought 
she  would  take  in  washing  to  help  me  out.  Oh,  it  could 
not  be  possible  that,  after  four  and  a  half  years  of  struggle 
I  must  now  yield  in  the  conflict.  God  sometimes  deals  in 
a  wonderful  manner  with  his  people.  I  cannot  tell  why 
he  called  patient  Job  to  his  humiliation  or  faithful  Abra- 
ham to  his  trial  of  faith.  But  he  suffered  it,  not  to  assure 
himself  that  these  servants  would  stand  the  test,  but  to 
display  through  them  the  power  of  God.  Joseph  suffers 
in  Egypt  in  prison;  Daniel  goes  down  into  the  lion's  den; 
the  Hebrews  into  the  furnace  of  fire,  John  the  Baptist  is 
beheaded  and  the  apostles  became  martyrs,  not  to  test 
themselves  or  to  assure  God  of  their  fidelity,  but  to  show 
to  the  generations  of  men  that  the  true  servants  trust  their 
God.  Thus  we  all  have  our  trials.  And  happy  are  we  if 
we  grow  noble,  strong  and  brave  under  them. 

Tlie  grejit  and  successful  men  of  history  are  commonly 
made  by  the  great  occasions  they  fill.  They  are  the  men 
who  had  faith  to  meet  such  occasions,  and  therefore  the 
occasions  marked  them,  called  them  to  come  and  be  what 
the  successes  of  their  faith  would  make  them.     The  boy  is 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  331 

but  a  shepherd;  but  he  liears  from  his  panic-stricken  coun- 
trymen of  the  giant  champion  of  their  enemies.  A  fire 
seizes  him,  and  he  goes  down,  with  nothing  but  his  sling 
and  his  heart  of  faifeh,  to  lay  the  champion  in  the  dust. 
Next  he  is  a  great  military  leader,  next  the  king  of  his 
country.  As  with  David,  so  with  Xehemiah;  as  w^ith  him 
so  with  Paul;  as  with  him,  so  with  Luther.  A  Socrates,  a 
Tully,  a  Cromwell,  a  Washington — all  the  great  master- 
spirits, the  founders  an  I  law^-ofivers  of  empires,  and  the 
defenders  of  the  rights  of  man — are  made  by  the  same  law. 
These  did  not  shrink  despairingly  within  the  compass  of 
their  poor  abilities,  but  in  their  hearts  of  faith,  they  em- 
braced each  one  his  cause,  and  went  forth,  under  the  inspir- 
ing force  of  their  call,  to  apprehend  that  for  which  they 
were  apprehended. 

But  could  I  still  cling  to  a  work  so  discouraging?  Truly 
it  was  a  trial  of  faith.  In  this  dark  hour  of  distress  I 
bowed  my  liead  in  the  very  dust,  and  in  the  bitterness  of 
the  ordeal  pleaded  for  heavenly  wisdom  and  divine  guid- 
ance. Days  and  nights  I  pressed  my  suit — would  not  let 
go  the  Divine  arm  until  an  assurance  of  some  kind  was 
received.  It  was  a  struggle  long  to  be  remembered.  I  had 
bitten  the  dust.  The  severest  trial  of  all  was  the  opening 
of  the  pajDer  to  advertisements.  Yet,  if  I  yielded  to  that 
then  all  my  reliance  in  God  and  faith  in  his  protection  of 
his  church  would  be  at  an  end.  God  only  knows  how  I 
was  tempted.  It  is  in  human  weakness  I  pen  these  words, 
when  I  say,  that  like  patient  Job  of  old,  though  forsaken, 
apparently,  of  God  and  man,  yet  I  k?iew  that  my  Redeem- 
e:'  lived,  and  I  would  trust  his  goodness  to  the  death.  The 
last  issue  possible  for  me  to  publish  was  in  the  press.  I 
dared  not  disclose  to  my  readers  the  terrible  condition  of 
things,  lest  my  enemies,  who  had  done  all  they  could  to 
ruin  me,  would  crush  me  financially,  before  help  could 
reach  me.     Doubtless  I  looked  distressed,  but  I  swallowed 


332  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

iny  grief,  and  held  up  my  head  as  best  I  could,  while  those 
who  were  secretly  hoping  I  would  tail,  tauntingly  asked, 
"IIow  are  you  prospering?" 

It  is  also  a  true  saying  that  trouble  never  comes  single. 
I  thought  my  cup  was  full  and  running  over,  but  to  add 
discouragement  to  misfortune,  another  unaccountable  and 
sore  perplexity  was  the  return  of  the  Censers — after  they 
liad  been  in  the  mails  a  week — by  the  armful,  in  a  torn, 
mutilated,  and  often  drenched  condition — a  thing  tliat 
never  before  or  since  happened.  And  thus  even  those  who 
were  faithful  to  the  paper  in  its  crisis  wrote  to  me,  saying 
that  if  they  could  not  get  the  paper,  they  would  cease  to 
subscribe.  Others  wanted  their  money  refunded  or  else 
have  the  paper  reach  them,  while  still  other.^  thought  me 
careless  or  dishonest.  ^Yell,  good  reader,  what  could  I  do? 
I  cried  like  a  child.  I  could  not  tell  why  it  was  thus.  Oh, 
how  discouraged  I  was.  I  worked  so  hard,  so  patiently, 
and  so  carefully  in  preparing  the  paper  for  the  mails.  And 
then  to  have  all  my  efforts  thus  frustrated,  was  enough  to 
drive  me  to  distraction.  "W^hy  my  papers  were  returned 
thus  in  a  very  damaged  condition.  I  have  good  reason  to 
think  was  the  work  of  the  man  wdio  carried  the  Censer 
from  the  postoffice  to  the  train  in  this  city.  He  was  a 
Iwoman  Catholic  in  reliorion.  1  had  often  heard  him  curse 
the  paper,  and  he  was  opposed  to  the  editorials  which  were 
being  published,  and,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  he  exposed 
the  nuiil  sacks  to  the  night  ruins,  as  the  paper  usually  was 
taken  down  in  the  evening  wliile  the  train  did  not  arrive 
until  past  midnight.  But  I  did  not  know  this  until  a  year 
later  when  the  same  thing  was  tried,  and  being  informed 
by  the  ])ost<jffice  department  through  its  Chicago  agency, 
1  investigated,  and  found  that  the  above  procedure  was  act- 
ed upon.  It  was  the  last  time  I  had  trouble  from  that 
quarter. 

All  these  things  combined  had  exhausted  my  resources. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  '      333 

I  was  human.  As  mucli  as  I  regretted — and  after  doing 
all  I  could — even  contracting  debts  whicli  would  take  me 
years  to  liquidate — having  lost  all  credit,  and  being  mis- 
trusted on  every  hand — the  last  j^aper,  so  far  as  I  could 
see,  was  going  through  the  press.  Was  it  God's  will  that 
the  Censer  should  go  down  under  such  a  pressure?  If  so, 
I  would  cling  to  it  as  long  as  human  energy  could.  I 
feared  not  to  suffer  with  it.  Gladly  would  I  have  gone 
from  mj  office  to  the  stake  or  the  cross,  or  to  meet  death  in 
any  other  way,  if  by  so  doing  truth  would  be  vindicated. 
Indeed  the  mental  torture  and  apprehensions  of  the  ap- 
proaching failure  when  my  office  would  be  shut  by  my 
creditors,  was  to  me  more  painful  than  death  itself. 

As  the  reader  must  already  have  observed,  an  unforeseen 
and  remarkable  combination  of  circumstances  led  to  the 
commencement  of  the  Censer,  and  by  equally  unforeseen 
and  remarkable  providences  has  it  been  sustained.  Had 
it  been  known  beforehand  that  one-tenth  part  of  the  faith, 
patience  and  means  would  have  been  required  for  this  enter- 
prise, it  would,  humanly  speaking,  never  have  been  begun, 
but  Providence  onl^'  requires  us  to  take  one  step  at  a  time. 
The  foundations  of  any  great  edifice  require  a  heavy  in- 
vestment before  anything  appears  above  ground,  and  Rome 
took  lono^er  to  reach  her  thirteenth  mile-stone  than  she  did 
afterward  to  conquer  the  world,  ^or  are  the  dark  days  of 
any  Christian  enterprise  its  worst  days.  They  draw  those 
concerned  in  it  nearer  to  the  throne  of  God  in  prayer  and 
w^atchfulness.  The  soul  that  would  be  great  must  become 
so  through  the  school  of  suffering  and  of  discipline.  If 
you  have  studied  the  lives  of  good,  brave  men  who  have 
walked  the  path  of  duty  fearfully  and  faithfully,  and  have 
suffered  as  they  traveled,  their  feet  bleeding  as  they  go ;  if 
you  have  taken  the  book  of  martyrs  and  observed  how 
calmly  they  have  bowed  their  heads  to  the  axe,  or  how 
joyously  they  embraced  the  stake,  if  they  must  go  up  to 


334      •  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

o-lorj  in  flames,  or — what  is  harder  to  be  endured  than 
fao-ot  or  scaffold — ifyuii  have  seen  simple-hearted,  hnmble, 
patient,  good  men,  leading  lives  of  self-denial  and  reproach, 
and  submitting  to  loss  of  place  and  distinction  and  com- 
fort, taking  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,  or  prefer- 
rino-  the  service  of  God  to  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  vou 
have  found  in  them  the  men  whose  lives  are  hid  with 
Christ  in  God  through  discipline — for  God  will  have  a  tried 
people. 

As  the  night  is  always  the  darkest  before  break  of  day, 
as  it  rains  the  hardest  before  the  cloud  is  lifted,  so  it  was 
with  me.  The  balance  turned  in  my  favor.  The  Censer 
was  not  yet  to  go  to  an  untimely  grave.  While  the  press 
was  rumbling,  and  the  last  thousand  sheets  were  being 
printed,  then,  humanly  speaking,  it  would  never  again 
print  the  Censer,  but  stand  idle  and  silent,  and  as  the  day 
was  wearing  away,  the  last  mail  laid  on  my  desk,  and  ])er- 
haps  the  last  day  I  would  sit  at  that  desk,  having  about 
become  reconciled  to  my  disgraceful  failure,  and,  as^  I 
opened  one  and  another  of  the  letters  before  me,  half  hop- 
ing some  relief  might  come,  and  yet  having  not  even  a 
reasonable  hope  for  relief,  for  I  was  almost  at  the  last  of 
the  letters  before  me,  as  I  pulled  out  the  contents  of  the 
envelope  of  the  letter  next  to  the  last  one,  behold  a  check 
for  $20  fell  upon  my  desk!  Could  it  be  possible!  or  was  it 
a  dream?  The  surprise  and  astonishment  was  so  great 
that  my  poor  aching  body  and  brain  almost  fainted  at  the 
sight  of  this  miraculous  "  draft  of  money"  and  I  buried 
my  face  in  my  hands  upon  my  desk  and  gave  God  thanks 
from  a  heart  whose  fountains  were  all  broken  up.  It  could 
not  be  that  so  much  money  was  intended  for  me!  The 
Lord  had  answered  my  prayers  many  times  before,  but 
never  in  a  more  signal  manner.  But  this  was  not  all, 
while  bowing  in  humble  gratitude,  the  expressman  rushed 
in  at  the  door  with  a  money  letter.     I  signed  the  book,  and 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIOXS.  335 

as  soon  as  he  had  departed,  I  opened  the  letter,  and  behold 
$12  stared  me  in  the  face!  Saved!  Saved!  I  audibly  re- 
peated to  myself,  and  mj  faithful  employes,  who  had  over- 
heard nie,  wanted  to  know  what  was  saved.  I  replied, 
"  The  Cexser  is  saved."  But  I  refrain.  Dear  reader,  my 
feeble  pen  refuses  to  write  down  the  scene  of  rejoicing 
which  then  and  there  ensued.  Oh,  who  can  count  the  mer- 
cies of  God  or  tell  of  his  goodness?  Oh,  why  should  I 
ever  doubt  or  mistrust  him  again.  Yet  I  could  not  glory 
in  anything  I  had  done,  for  I  had,  in  mind,  at  least,  given 
up  the  conflict,  though  I  had  not  disclosed  it  to  even  my 
most  tried  friends.     To  God  belonged  all  the  glory. 

More  than  ever  before  did  I  realize  that  none  of  us  "liv- 
eth  to  himself."  The  best  of  us  sometimes  in  the  way  of 
life  need  a  little  help.  I  would  write  this  thought  upon 
every  heart  and  stamp  it  on  every  memory.  "  Let  us  help 
one  another,"  should  be  an  observance  practiced  not  only 
in  every  household,  but  throughout  the  world.  By  help- 
ing one  another  we  not  only  remove  thorns  from  the  path- 
way, and  anxiety  from  the  mind,  but  we  feel  a  sense  of 
pleasure  in  our  own  hearts,  knowing  we  are  doing  a  duty 
to  a  fellow  creature.  A  helping  hand  or  an  encouraging 
word  is  no  loss  to  us,  yet  it  is  a  benefit  to  others.  Who 
has  not  felt  the  j)ower  of  this  little  sentence?  Who  has 
not  needed  the  encouragement  and  aid  of  a  kind  friend  ? 
How  soothing,  when  perplexed  with  some  task  that  is 
mysterious  and  burthensome,  to  feel  a  gentle  hand  on  the 
shoulder  and  to  hear  a  kind  voice  whispering:  "Do  not 
feel  discouraged;  I  see  your  trouble:  let  me  help  you." 
What  strength  is  inspired,  what  hope  created,  what  sweet 
gratitude  is  felt,  and  the  great  difficulty  is  dissolved  as  dew 
beneath  the  sunshine.  Yes,  let  us  help  one  another  by 
endeavoring  to  strengthen  and  encourage  the  weak  and 
lifting  the  burden  of  care  from  the  weary  and  oppressed, 
that  life  may  glide  smoothly  on  and  the  fount  of  bitterness 


836  AUTOIilOGRAPIIY. 

yield  sweet  waters;  and  he,  whose  willing  hand  is  ever 
ready  to  aid  us,  will  reward  our  humble  endeavors,  and 
every  good  deed  will  be  as  ''  bread  cast  upon  the  waters  to 
return  after  many  days,"  if  not  to  us,  to  those  we  love. 

But  I  took  heart  once  more,  and  put  forth  my  best  effort 
ujjon  the  paper.  Nor  were  my  labors  in  vain,  for  the  re- 
ceipts on  the  paper  surely  and  steadily  continued  to  in- 
crease, until  its  income  equaled  its  outgo.  Tlien  there 
was  a  balance  in  my  favor  at  the  end  of  each  week.  As 
fast  as  the  means  came  into  my  hands  I  judiciously  dis- 
bursed them  among  my  creditors.  As  the  sun  comes  out 
after  a  storm,  bringing  gladness  to  all,  so  gleams  of  return- 
ing prosperity  cheered  my  aching  heart.  The  storm-cloud 
looked  black,  but  the  mutterings  of  the  thunder  were  over- 
past— it  was  a  receding  storm.  Occasionally  I  received  a 
letter  speaking  in  a  commendatory  manner  of  the  Censer 
— then  of  its  being  good — then  of  its  comforting  and  clieer- 
inof  words — then  of  its  excellence  and  of  its  beinoj  indis- 
])ensable.  I  carefully  noted  all  these  things,  and  while  I 
did  not  fawn  to  public  patronage  and  popular  favor,  and 
never  expected  to,  yet  I  gratefully  thanked  the  good  peo- 
ple, and  earnestlj"  prayed  that  I  might  merit  their  appro- 
bations. 

More  than  ever  did  I  direct  my  editorials  at  the  heart. 
For  I  greatly  desired  to  do  good  unto  my  fellowmen.  Fur 
it  is  a  Bible  truth  that  if  we  get  the  heart  right,  the  head 
and  actions  will  be  right.  Let  every  Christian  have  a 
heart  that  yearns  ov^er  the  spiritual  and  temporal  well-being 
of  his  fellowman,  be  he  rich  or  poor,  high  or  low,  then 
human  appointed  instruments  will  cease.  This  is  what 
the  Censer  endeavored  to  do  and  shall  continue  to  do.  If 
I  fail,  it  is  because  I  have  not  the  wisdom,  and  not  because 
I  have  not  the  desire  or  disposition.  I  have  carefully 
studied  Christ's  method,  how  he  reached  the  hearts  of  the 
people;  and  I  have  also  marked  the  characteristics  of  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  337 

most  -successful  preachers,  and  find  that  those  who  have 
followed  Christ  in  these  respects  have  been  the  most  suc- 
cessful in  winning  the  hearts  of  the  people  to  a  higher  and 
better  life. 

If  all  of  us  followed  the  words  of  Jesus  more  than  we 
doj  we  would  have  greater  spiritual  power.  It  is  said  of 
him:  "  Xever  man  sj^ake  like  this  man,"  and  in  this  re- 
spect we  never  can  be  equal  to  the  Saviour;  but  we  can  all 
aspire  after  him.  But  how  true  it  is  that  from  no  human 
tongue  had  ever  been  heard  such  words  of  wisdom  and 
power  as  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  humble  IS'azarene.  His 
language  filled  his  faithful  followers  with  rapture,  but  con- 
founded and  dismayed  his  subtle  enemies.  No  wonder 
that  the  proud  Pharisees  were  dismayed,  and  wondered 
Tvhencehe  had  all  this  wisdom.  iSTo  wonder  that  they  were 
astonished  at  his  doctrine.  ISTo  wonder  that  great  multi- 
tudes followed  him,  to  hear  the  gracious  words  that  flowed 
from  his  lips.  Where  in  all  the  literature  of  the  world  is 
anything  more  sublime,  more  beautiful,  more  precious  to 
the  heart,  than  the  words  spoken  by  Christ?  Where  is 
anything  that  can  compare  with  the  sermon  on  the  mount 
in  sublimity  and  moral  beauty? 

The  sublimity  and  beauty  of  the  language  of  Christ  rises 
above  everything  else  that  has  ever  been  spoken  or  written. 
But  more  precious  to  mankind  are  his  expressions  of  love, 
his  glorious  promises,  and  the  words  of  hope  that  cheer 
his  faithful  followers.  "  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto 
the  end,"  are  the  promises  which  he  holds  out  to  his  dis- 
ciples, to  encourage  them  in  the  darkest  hours  and  most 
trying  scenes  of  life's  conflict.  These  words  are  still  a 
balm  to  the  troubled  soul,  giving  assurance  of  the  Saviour's 
continual  presence.  From  the  language  of  Christ  we  may 
ever  draw  the  richest  treasures.  Here  the  one  who  thirsts  for 
true  wisdom  may  obtain  the  desire  of  his  heart.  Here 
those  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness  may  ob- 
22 


338  AUTOiJIOGRAPHY. 

tain  lining  bread  and  drink  freely  of  the  water  pf  life. 
Here  the  monrners  are  comforted  and  the  weary  strength- 
ened; those  in  darkness  may  obtain  light,  and  the  spiritual 
wants  of  all  may  be  supplied. 

"While  the  whole  manner  of  Jesus  was  mild  and  his 
language  full  of  love,  yet  his  words  of  reproof  were  some- 
times terrible,  causing  his  opponents  to  quail  before  him. 
IIow  keenly  his  treacherous  enemies  must  have  felt  such 
rebukes  as  the  following:  "  Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  hypocrites!"  "Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of 
vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?"  Though 
his  rebukes  are  sometimes  clothed  in  such  startling  lan- 
guage, yet  he  weeps  over  the  hardness  of  heart  and  the  un- 
belief of  the  people,  and  prays  for  his  blood-thirsty  mur- 
derers. 

Jesus  speaks  to  the  palsied  and  lame,  and  they  leap  for 
joy,  restored  to  perfect  health.  At  his  word  the  blind  re- 
ceive their  sight,  the  deaf  hear,  the  lepers  are  cleansed, 
and  the  dead  hear  his  voice  and  arise  to  life.  He  says  to 
the  afflicted  leper,  "  Be  clean,"  and  the  leprous  scales  fall 
from  him,  and  the  life-tide  thrills  through  his  parched 
veins,  and  again  he  feels  the  dew  of  health  cooling  his  burn- 
ing brow.  To  the  sin-burdened  one  he  says,  "Thy  sins  are 
forgiven  thee,"  and  the  burden  of  guilt  is  rolled  away  and 
the  heavenly  light  breaks  upon  the  benighted  soul. 

While  in  these  respects  he  ever  stands  above  us,  yet 
words,  kindly  spoken — spoken  from  the  heart — will  have  a 
wonderful  p<nver  and  influence  over  those  for  whom  they 
were  intended.  As  the  breath  of  the  dew  to  the  tender 
plants,  they  gently  fall  upon  the  drooping  heart,  refresh- 
ing its  withered  tendrils,  and  soothing  its  burning  woes. 
Bright  roses  they  are  in  life's  great  desert.  Who  can  es- 
timate the  pangs  they  have  alleviated,  or  the  good  work 
tliey  have  accomplished?  Long  after  they  are  uttered  do 
they   reverberate  in   the  soul's   inner  chamber,  and    sing 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  339 

low,  sweet,  sounds,  that  quell  the  raging  storms  that  may 
have  before  existed.  And  oh  I  when  the  heart  is  sad,  and 
like  a  broken  harp  and  the  sweetest  chords  of  pleasure  cease 
to  vibrate,  who  can  tell  the  power  of  one  kind  word  ?  One 
little  word  of  tenderness,  gushing  in  upon  the  soul,  will 
sweep  the  long-neglected  chords,  and  awaken  the  most 
pleasant  strains.  When  borne  down  with  the  trials  and 
troubles  of  life,  and  we  are  about  ready  to  faint  by  the 
way,  how  like  the  cheering  rays  of  sunshine,  do  the  kind 
words  come!  They  drive  sorrow  away.  Kind  words  are 
like  jewels  in  the  heart,  never  to  be  forgotten,  but,  per- 
haps, to  cheer  by  their  memory  a  long  life,  while  words 
of  cruelty  are  like  darts  in  the  bosom  wounding  and  leav- 
ing scars  that  will  be  borne  to  the  grave  by  their  vic- 
tims. 

By  the  first  of  January  the  Censer  had  met  most  of  its 
obligations,  and  I  could  work  much  more  cheerfully, 
though  I  practiced  the  closest  economy,  and  persevered  in 
the  strictest  self-denial. 

This,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  a'  very  cold  winter, 
the  mercury  often  ranging  from  ten  to  twenty  degrees  be- 
low zero,  and  continuing  there  for  three  or  four  days  in 
succession.  The  office  was  a  poorly  constructed  concern, 
with  only  an  eight-inch  wall  and  plastered  on  the  bricks. 
Besides.,  it  was  all  exposed  and  open  to  the  bitter  cold,  and 
on  the  days  that  the  wind  was  in  the  southwest  there  was 
no  draft  to  the  chimney.  As  a  result,  both  myself  and  my 
employes  suflered  very  much  from  the  cold.  I  purchased 
the  best  coal  stoves  to  be  obtained,  and  yet  I  could  not 
warm  the  office  to  make  it  comfortable  to  work  in.  Sev- 
eral times  we  had  to  adjourn  on  account  of  the  cold.  At 
times  it  was  almost  impossible  to  make  the  ink  flow  so  as 
to  print  the  paper.  I  was  running  the  office  at  a  great  ex- 
pense in  fuel,  and  the  employes  suflered  beyond  endurance. 
While  thus  sufi'eriug  I  looked  about  to  see  if  I  could  not 


340  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

obtain  better  quarters.  But  there  was  no  building  or  suit- 
able rooms  witliin  my  means  to  be  obtained  in  the  city.  It 
was  at  this  time,  I  for  the  first  mooted  the  thought  of 
building  an  office.  But  it  was  only  chimerical,  for  where 
would  I  ever  obtain  money  enough  to  even  purchase  the 
ground,  let  alone  building  an  office? 

But  it  was  a  matter  of  observation  of  both  friend  and 
foe  that  the  Censer  fearlessly  stood  up  for  the  truth, 
though  by  so  doing  it  was  unpopular  in  many  quarters.  I 
could  not  compromise  the  gospel,  though  single  handed, 
and  alone  I  stood  against  the  multitute.  And  it  is  strange 
with  what  reckless  infatuation  people  will  follow  in  the 
way  of  the  multitude,  without  even  pausing  to  question 
whether  it  is  in  the  broad  way  that  leadeth  down  to  death 
or  in  the  narrow  which  leaJeth  to  life  everlastinor.  It 
grieves  my  heart  to  see  it  thus,  how  difficult  it  is  to  reach 
this  class  of  people.  However,  deceived  as  they  are,  they 
certainly  are  very  enthusiastic,  a  trait  commendable  and 
worthy  a  better  cause,  and  one  which  the  lukewarm  in  the 
church  would  do  well  to  copy.  In  very  many  localities,  by 
far  the  largest  congregation  or  audience  could  be  gathered, 
to  listen  to  smooth-spoken  things  of  man's  philosophy,  but 
which  has  very  little  of  the  gosjjel  of  Jesus  Christ  in  it.  It 
seems  to  be  the  tendencv  of  the  aore  to  either  hear  or  see 
some  new  thing.  If  you  want  a  throng  at  your  church, 
get  a  popular  preacher — one  who  can  preach  without  a 
Christ  in  his  sermon,  and  the  multitude  will  come  and  go 
like  a  door  upon  its  hinges. 

But  that  is  no  evidence  of  loyalty  to  the  truth.  "  Tlie 
multitude  is  always  on  the  side  of  error,"  was  the  reply  of 
Luther,  when  his  enemies  taunted  him  with  the  fact  that 
the  Protestants  were  few  compared  with  the  Papists,  and 
from  generation  to  generation  there  has  been  a  sad  verifi- 
cation of  his  words. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  341 

Who  was  saved  wlien  heaven's  vast  fountains 

Did  Iheir  jflood  of  death  begin  ? 
And  all  flesh  on  plains  and  mountains 

Perislied  in  its  awful  sin  ? 
Only  Noah. 

In  the  ark  of  God  shut  in. 

Who  was  saved  from  direst  horror 

At  the  unexpected  hour, 
When  both  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 

Sunk  o'erwhelmed  to  rise  no  more  ? 
Lot,  the  faithful, 

Was  alone  removed  to  Zoar. 

Elijah,  confronting  "four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal"  backed  by  a  wicked  king  and  court, — Micaiah  op- 
posed by  "four  hundred  men"  and  a  ruler  who  hated  him, 
^Jeremiah  in  tears,  borne  to  the  dungeon  because  he 
would  not  join  the  false  prophets  in  the  cry  of  "peace;" — 
Ezekiel  hindered  in  laying  a  good  foundation  by  multi- 
tudes "daubing  with  untempered  mortar," — and  the  Christ 
of  God  led  away  to  Pilate's  hall  amidst  the  cry  of  the 
crowd,  "Crucify  him,  crucify  him!" — are  but  samples  of 
the  opposition  which  truth  has  experienced  in  its  onward 
march  through  the  centuries. 

Paul,  moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  forewarned  the 
church,  that  as  it  had  been  in  the  past  so  it  would  be  in 
his  dispensation — teachers  of  error  would  be  numerous; 
"heaps  of  them"  is  the  figure  he  uses.  Hear  him:  "Preach 
the  word;  be  earnest,  in  season,  out  of  season ;  refute  error, 
rebuke,  exhort  with  the  greatest  forbearance,  with  teaching; 
for  the  season  will  come  when  they  will  not  endure  whole- 
some teaching;  but  having  itching  ears,"  ^'.  ^.,  "seeking  to 
hear  for  their  own  pleasure;  wanting  their  vices  and  in- 
firmities to  be  tickled,"  "they  will  heap  up  teachers  for 
themselves,  suited  to  their  own  desires;  and  will  turn  away 
their  ears  from  the  truth,  and  turn  themselves  to  fables." 
It  is  manifest  from  this  that  there  was  no  lack  of  man- 


342  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

inade  teachers.  God-made  teachers,  earnest  preacliers  of 
•*tlie  Word,"  were  in  the  minority.  Thus  it  has  been,  thus 
it  is,  and  thus  it  will  be  till  the  appearing  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  as  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead. 

How  important  is  this  subject  for  the  consideration  of 
all!  Are  we  in  the  ministry — called  of  God  to  preach  the 
gospel?  Our  duty  is  plain;  it  is  with  the  Word  we  haye 
to  do — not  with  fables,  howeyer  pleasing  they  may  be.  The 
reyelation  of  God  ouo:ht  to  be  more  interestinor  to  us  than 
the  discoveries  of  men,  the  winning  of  souls  than  bursts 
of  applause,  the  favor  of  heaven  than  the  fellowship  of  the 
wicked  and  worldly.  "As  the  fountains/'  says  Chrj'sos- 
tom,  "though  none  draw  from  them,  still  flow  on,  and  the 
rivers,  though  none  drink  of  them,  still  run,  so  must  we 
do  all  on  our  part  in  speaking,  though  none  give  heed  to 
us."  Better  be  saved  with  the  few  tlian  lost  with  the 
many.  Better  be  a  part  of  God's  "remains"  than  well  up 
in  ♦ihe  "heap"  of  human  formation.  Better  be  despised  of 
men  for  clinging  to  the  Lord's  truth  than  applauded  of 
men  for  skillfully  tickline:  "itchino:  ears."  As  the  dead 
frogs  of  Eg3'pt,  when  gathered  together  upon  heaps,  made 
the  land  stink  (Exod.  vii:  14),  so  heaps  of  false  teachers 
make  the  professed  church  offensive  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Minister  of  Christ,  look  to  the  end.  If  you  would  hear 
the  "well  done"  from  the  throne,  shun  not  to  declare 
the  whole  counsel  of  God  as  you  have  opportunity. 

I  have  always  firmly  believed  that  the  gospel  of  Christ 
faithfully  preached  will  be  its  own  vindication.  It  is  of 
God,  and,  therefore,  will  stand  the  test  of  honest,  faithful 
investigation.  I  have  somewhere  read  of  a  minister,  who 
when  he  preached  wanted  to  so  hold  up  the  cross  of  Christ 
that  no  part  of  himself  could  be  seen  by  the  congregation. 
But  I  fear  that  many  of  the  namby-pamby,  kid-gloved, 
silver-caned  fashionable  preachers  of  to-day  want  to  so 
hold  themselves  up  to  the  admiration  of  the  congregation, 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  34:3 

in  their  modern  butterfly  pulpits,  that  no  part  of  the  cross 
of  Christ  may  be  seen.  When  the  great  sculptor  Phi- 
dias was  employed  by  the  Athenians  to  make  a  statue  of 
Diana,  he  became  so  enamored  with  his  work,  and  so  anx- 
ious that  his  name  should  o^o  down  the  ao^es  alone:  with  it, 
that  he  secretly  engraved  it  among  tlie  folds  of  her  drapery. 
When  the  Athenians  discovered  it,  they  indignantly  ban- 
ished the  man  who  had  so  profaned  the  sanctity  of  their 
goddess.  So  the  spotless  robe  of  Christ's  righteousness  is 
profaned  by  those  who  would  add  to  it  any  self-righteous 
adornings.     Christ  must  be  all  in  all  to  the  soul,  or  it  will 

be  banished  forever  from  his  "oresence. 

J. 

Well,  the  seasons  do  not  last  always,  and  the  rigors  of 
winter  finally  passed  away,  and  spring  with  its  sunny 
hours,  balmy  air,  and  lengthening  days  came  in  its  place. 
And  with  the  advance  of  spring  came  the  close  of  volume 
fifth.  I  was  thankful  to  Almio:htv  God  for  continued 
health  and  a  sweet  disposition.  It  had  been  the  most  try- 
intr  and  distressino^  vear  of  mv  editorial  life.  'No  consid- 
eration  could  have  persuaded  me  to  go  through  a  similar 
experience.  As  I  look  over  the  distress  of  mind,  and  the 
depression  and  the  despondency,  and  constant  dread  of 
failing  in  business  I  then  endured,  I  wonder  that  I  did  not 
break  down  in  health  under  it.  Yet  during  this  year  I 
was  sick  but  three  days,  and  was  but  one  day  confined  in 
bed,  and  this  was  in  October — in  the  midst  of  the  depres- 
sion of  mind,  and  financial  embarrassment.  The  close  of 
the  volume  found  me  even  with  the  world  so  far  as  debts 
were  concerned.  I  had  paid  all  my  obligations.  But  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  was'  eight  hundred  dollars  poorer 
than  one  year  ago.  The  paper  had  run  eight  hundred  dol- 
lars behind  paying  its  own  expenses. 

Perhaps  it  would  not  be  boasting  if  I  should  say  that 
very  few  would  have  clung  to  a  cause  as  I  did  in  these  dark, 
discouraging  days.      Some  people  think  an  editor  is  an 


344  Al  TOBIOGRAl'IIY. 

enviable  person,  one  I  would  have  exchanged  my  lot  for 
any  occupation  whereby  an  honorable  livelihood  could  be 
obtained.  Only  my  sense  of  honor  and  bound  obligation 
to  my  subscribers,  whose  money  on  unexpired  subscriptions 
I  had  used,  prevented  me  from  retiring  from  so  thankless 
a  task. 

But  I  determined  if  pluck  and  energy  had  anything  to 
do  towards  making  the  Cexser  a  success,  it  should  never 
go  down  on  my  hands.  Also  I  kept  to  my  principles  in 
excluding  all  advertisements  from  the  paper.  I  resolved 
to  firmly  adhere  to  this,  though  by  so  doing  I  should  be 
compelled  to  live  on  bread  and  water.  I  also  devoted  my 
best  energies  to  the  paper — labored  some  sixteen  hours  in 
each  working  day  of  the  week  to  put  life  and  character 
into  it.  Xor  were  my  labors  unrewarded,  for  the  subscrip- 
tions were  very  liberal,  and  constantly  increasing;  in  short, 
the  Censer  was  prospering. 

Volume  sixth  opened  under  very  flattering  prospects; 
had  a  good  subscription  list,  and  was  constantly  gaining 
ground. 

Through  the  clouds  and  the  gloom  and  the  cold,  I  had 
again  come  to  the  sunshine  and  the  shower  and  beauty  of 
spring.  While  my  annual  labors  close  amid  the  alternate 
snows  and  rain  of  April,  the  Golden  Censer  comes  fresh 
and  vigorous  to  the  homes  of  its  readers  in  the  loveliest 
season  of  the  year.  Who  does  not  welcome  May,  the 
month  of  flowers  and  blossoms? 

In  this  latitude  and  this  season,  when  April  is  cold  and 
backward — its  air  filled  with  snow — we  usuallv  have  had 
no  realization  of  spring  until  about  the  first  of  May.  As 
I  write,  the  clouds  that  hovered  over  the  earth  for  the  past 
two  or  three  weeks  are  all  passed  away.  The  sky  is  clear, 
and  the  sun  shines  in  all  the  life-giving  power  of  spring- 
time, so  I  am  led  to  exclaim  with  the  poet: 

See  tlie  young,  the  rosy  spriug, 

Gives  to  the  hropzo  hor  spanfrlod  wing' 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIOKS.  345 

And  May  with  its  gentle  zephyrs,  and  beautiful,  golden 
sun -risings,  and  balmy  air  has  come,  smiling  graciously 
through  her  floral  veil,  clothing  all  nature  with  her  emerald 
warmth.  The  light  of  her  eye  is  reflected  on  the  sparkling 
waters,  her  voice  in  chorus  with  the  feathered  songsters 
re-echoes  on  the  sunlit  mountain,  in  the  cool  shady  dell, 
and  her  footprints  breathe  a  fragrant  perfume  over  the 
mossy  carpet.  The  waters  of  her  newly-refreshed  springs 
and  brooklets  leap  from  rock  to  forest  vale,  creeping  softly 
— murmuring  sweetly  the  while — into  solitude  of  the 
sepulchre,  and  inviting  the  passing  zephyrs  to  chant  a 
requiem;  they  adorn  the  forests  and  hill  with  fairy  dia- 
monds— sparkling  dewdrops — and  ornament  the  emerald 
grasses  on  which  the  light  feet  of  morning  dance  as  she 
ste])s  from  the  golden  palaces  of  Aurora,  and  slowly  de- 
scends to  earth. 

The  verdure  of  the  meadows  enameled  with  flowers  of 
every  hue;-  the  light  foliage  of  the  wood,  and  the  luxur- 
iant, variegated  blossoms  of  the  fruit  trees,  each  doubling 
the  charm  of  the  rest — present  a  lovely,  glowing  picture. 
The  flocks  and  herds,  roaming  freely  over  pastures  and 
fields,  give  life  and  motion  to  spring's  exquisite,  quiet 
beauty,  on  which  the  mind  of  poet  or  painter  can  only  love 
to  linger. 

Tlie  great  book  of  nature  is  turned  to  its  most  glowing 
page,  and  makes  glad  tlie  heart  of  man,  as  he  reads  the 
ever  new,  ever  golden  evidences  of  a  kind  Providence  in  the 
exuberance  of  beaut}-  fresh  before  him. 

Welcome!  thrice  welcome,  lovely  spring!  who  hath  come 
to  chase  away  hoary  winter  with  his  chilling  blasts,  be- 
numbing frosts,  drifting  snows,  and  driving  sleet,  giving 
new  life,  new  hope  to  all,  and  reminding  us  with  thy  beau- 
tiful flowers,  blossoming  trees,  and  promising  crops,  of 
the  All-wise  Creator,  who,  in  lavishing  these  abundant 
pleasures   and    delicious    fruits    upon   us,  has   fulfilled  in 


346  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

them  the  promise  that  plenty  and  peace  sliall  be  the  boon 
of  man  from  his  gracious  hand. 

With  the  growtli  of  years  comes  the  growth  of  strength. 
First  the  germ,  then  the  sprout,  and  finally  the  sturdy 
tree.  With  the  blush  of  early  manhood  upon  my  face,  in 
humble*  prayer,  forced  in  circumstances  and  distrustful  of 
myself,  I  had  consecrated  the  pages  of  the  Cp:xser  from  its 
very  beginning  to  the  service  of  God.  Those  of  my  readers 
who  have  followed  me  from  the  first  will  bear  witness  that 
I  have  redeemed  my  early  pledge  to  deal  plainly  and  faith- 
fully with  the  vanities  and  follies  of  the  present-day  re- 
ligion, which,  like  a  canker,  is  eating  out  the  spiritual  life 
of  Christ's  church.  I  admit  I  have  been  radical,  but  Christ 
was  radical.  For  a  long  time  it  was  hard  to  convince  the 
world  that  the  Censer  was  its  real  friend.  I  have  sailed 
over  rough  seas,  but  the  storms  and  tempests  only  develop- 
ed the  powers  necessary  to  stem  the  conflict.  There  was 
the  world  with  all  its  attractions  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
cross  and  bitter  cup  on  the  other.  To  combat  with  the 
popular  evils  of  the  day,  the  Censer,  at  times,  has  been  like 
a  surgeon's  knife  that  cuts  to  the  quick;  but,  while  I  have 
not  spared,  it  was  all  for  the  purpose  of  properh^  dressing 
the  wounds.  Regardless  of  praise  or  blame,  I  have  kept 
right  on  in  the  plain  path  of  duty,  taking  the  Holy  Bible  as 
my  guide  in  all  things.  By  that  standard  I  stand  or  fall. 
And  now,  in  opening  the  sixth  volume,  I  desire  to  say  that 
my  convictions  in  regard  to  the  claitns  of  Christ  on  his 
created  intelligences  for  personal  holiness  and  consecration 
to  the  work  of  brinorinor  the  world  to  the  knowledire  of  a 
merciful  and  long-sufiering  Saviour,  and  of  the  grand  pos- 
sibilities before  every  human  being,  have  been  deepened. 

It  is  as  clear  to  me  as  the  lijjht  at  noondav,  that  in  the 
gospel  dispensation  "there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  neith- 
er bond  nor  free,  neither  male  nor  female,"  but  all  are  one 
in  Christ  Jesus.     And  equally  clear,  that  if  this  world  is 


I'ERSOi^AL    RECOLLECTIONS.  347 

brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  men  and  wo- 
men uplifted  from  the  slums  of  passion  and  appetite,  where 
many  now  wallow  in  guilt  and  shame,  the  work  must  be 
done  by  those  who  claim  to  be  Christ's  disciples.  And  in 
this  no  amount  of  church-going  or  Christian  giving  can 
take  the  place  of  personal  religious  work.  All  these  are 
proper,  and  right,  and  good  so  far  as  they  go.  Wliatever 
else  we  may  give  we  must  give  ourselves  in  loving  obedient 
service  to  the  Master. 

In  this  land  of  plenty  where  money  can  be  easily  ob- 
tained by  the  masses,  many  are  apt  to  think  themselves 
excused  from  earnest  and  aggressive  work  in  the  vineyard 
because  they  give  freely  of  their  temporal  means.  Of 
course  thej^  would  not  express  this  sentiment  in  so  many 
words,  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  there  are  not  a  few  who 
are  quite  willing  to  substitute  gold  for  personal  religious 
work.  When  they  give  of  their  abundance,  they  speak  of 
their  offerings  as  treasures  laid  up  in  heaven,  and  forget 
the  rebuke  of  Peter:  "Thy  money  perish  with  thee,  be- 
cause thou  hast  thought  that  the  gift  of  God  may  be  pur- 
chased with  money,"  or  that  God  gave  them  health,  means 
and  prosperity  with  which  to  obtain  their  treasures. 
Again,  on  the  other  hand,  the  poor  often  excuse  themselves 
from  religious  work  because  they  are  circumscribed  and 
have  not  the  money  of  the  rich  to  give.  They  seem  to 
overlook  the  fact  that  "  words  fitly  spoken  are  like  apples 
of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver,"  and  that  even  a  look  of  sym- 
pathy may  be  of  more  value  to  a  tempted,  struggling  soul 
than  a  mine  of  srold.  God  looks  at  the  heart  and  not  at 
the  purse,  and  judges  by  the  purpose  rather  than  the  deed. 
The  widow's  mite  in  manv  a  case  would  outwei":h  the  rich 
man's  thousands. 

JSTow  in  all  this  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  that 
works  in  and  of  themseh^es  will  save  us.  It  is  onlv  the 
blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  can  do  that — after  we  have 


348  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

done  all  we  could,  we  are  but  unprofitable  servants  at  best. 
Religfion  means  love  to  God  and  love  to  our  fellowmen. 
A  love  that  shows  itself  in  gifts  and  deeds,  but  draws  its 
inspiration  from  Christ,  the  great  fountain  head.  But 
whatever  else  we  give,  we  must  give  ourselves  a  whole 
burnt  offering.  Not  monej  alone  but  time  and  talent  and 
personal  service;  no  part  of  the  price  may  be  kept  back. 
This  is  the  gospel  I  advocate.  Mv  crj  has  been,  is  now, 
and  ever  will  be,  Oh,  that  the  house  of  Israel  mio^ht  lav 
aside  the  frivolities,  the  excessive  adornments  of  the  body, 
worldly  amusements,  and  with  heart  and  hands  enter  into 
the  glorious  privileges  of  Christ's  work,  in  this  age  and  in 
these  times,  when  the  field  is  already  white  for  the  reaper's 
sickle,  and  the  laborers  are  few. 

Fullv  realizinor  that  time  is  verv  short,  that  the  orolden 
years  of  our  tabernacling  in  the  flesh  are  speedily  washing 
up  against  the  shores  of  eternity,  I  enter  upon  the  duties 
and  labors  which  the  opening  volume  imposes  upon  me. 

And  ere  I  lay  down  the  pen,  I  crave  the  clemency  of  my 
readers  the  coming  year;  poor  human  nature,  oh,  how  frail 
and  liable  to  err!  I  make  no  claims  to  perfection.  God 
helping  me,  1  can  only  promise  to  do  the  best  I  know  how\ 
In  handling  the  issues  of  the  day,  we  must  "be  wise  as 
serpents  and  harmless  as  doves,"  in  order  to  win  the  hearts 
of  men  back  to  Christ.  In  your  closet  while  you  pray  for 
the  heathen,  the  spread  of  the  gospel,  the  success  of  your 
pastor  in  his  field  of  labor,  do  not  forget  to  pray  for  your 
patient,  toiling  editor,  who  often  has  heavier  burdens  and 
weightier  responsibilities  to  stand  up  under  than  the  world 
ever  thinks  of.     And  may  God  bless  our  dear  readers. 

With  these  words  I  opened  volume  sixth,  hopeful  of 
prosperity,  and  praying  that  I  might  be  spared  the  dis- 
comfitures, pains  and  anxieties  of  the  pre\'ious  volume. 

But,  night  and  day  the  Censer  office  was  being  built  in 
mv  mind.     I  could  not   ^et   rid  of  the  idea.     I  dreaded 


pp:rsonal  recollections.  349 

wintering  in  the  old  place.  I  daily  made  it  a  subject  ot 
prayer.  I  knew  if  I  had  suitable  quarters,  I  could  do 
much  better  printing.  I  pressed  the  matter  before  mj 
Master.  I  have  faith  in  answered  prayer  and  a  guiding 
providence.  'No  good  thing  will  our  Lord  withhold  from 
us  if  it  is  for  our  best  interest  to  have  it. 

About  this  time  I  filled  an  appointment  for  a  pastor  of 
a  neighboring  village.  While  in  company  with  a  good 
brother,  after  the  sermon  which  treated  upon  the  higher 
life,  he  observed  that  he  could  not  understand  why  minis- 
ters should  be  so  earnest  in  enforcing  the  doctrine  of  holi- 
ness. He  believed  if  a  man  lived  as  well  as  he  knew  how 
it  was  all  the  Bible  required  of  him,  and  he  thought  that 
while  many  professed  holiness,  few  lived  holy  lives. 

Doubtless  this  good  brother  uttered  the  sentiments  of 
hundreds  of  people.  Yery  many  are  slow  to  believe  in  the 
necessity  of  entire  consecration  to  God.  and  hence  come 
short  of  that  holiness  taught  in  the  Bible.  I  am  of  the 
conviction  that  consecration  must  precede  holiness  of  heart 
and  life  as  much  as  conviction  precedes  conversion.  And 
here  I  think  is  the  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  many 
people.  They  have  not  arrived  at  that  point  in  their  Chris- 
tian profession  when  they  will  lay  all  upon  the  altar — self 
with  the  rest — ^and  say:  "  Here,  Lord,  accept  the  sacrifice." 
Let  such  consecration  be  made,  and  holy  fire  will  speedily 
descend  upon  the  heart  thus  rendering  it.  If  entire  holi- 
ness is  not  taught  in  the  Bible,  it  is  impossible  to  find 
words  to  teach  it.  Let  the  words  be  selected,  and  the  sen- 
tences formed,  which,  in  the  clearest  and  strongest  possible 
manner,  may  be  understood  to  teach  this  doctrine, — ^just 
such  word^  we  would  use  if  we  intended  to  teach  it  so 
plainly  that  no  one  could  possibly  misunderstand  it, — and 
turning:  to  the  Bible  it  will  be  found  tauo^ht  there  with 
equal  clearness  and  force;  and,  however  the  words  may  be 
varied,  a  corresponding  variety  will  be  found  in  the  Bible. 


352  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Holiness!  Holiness  needed !  Holiness  required!  Holiness 
offered.  Holiness  attainable.  Holiness  a  present  duty,  a 
present  privilege,  a  present  enjoyment,  is  the  progress  and 
completeness  of  its  wonderful  theme.  It  is  the  truth  glow- 
ing all  over  and  rejoicing  all  through  revelation;  singing 
and  shouting  in  all  its  history,  biography,  poetry,  prophecy, 
precept,  promise,  and  prayer;  the  great  central  truth  of 
the  system,  the  truth  to  elucidate  which  the  system  exists. 
If  God  has  spoken  at  all,  it  is  to  aid  men  to  be  holy.  The 
wonder  is  that  all  do  not  see,  that  any  rise  up  to  question 
a  truth  so  conspicuous,  so  full  of  comfort. 

Let  my  good  reader  grasp  this  grand  cardinal  doctrine 
of  the  Bible  and  appropriate  it,  as  it  is  his  privilege  and 
dut}',  as  his  own.  Indeed,  so  positive  and  explicit  is  the 
Word  of  God  upon  this  subject,  that  it  has  plainly  de- 
clared that  "  without  holiness  no  one  shall  see  the  Lord." 
To  all  who  are  of  the  mind  of  the  brother  referred  to,  and 
who  are  trying  to  do  as  well  as  they  know  how,  who  are 
content  to  grope  in  the  valley  amid  miasmas  and  malarias, 
I  would  say:  Come  up  to  the  highlands;  climb  the  Lord's 
holy  mountains,  and  from  thence  breathe  the  pure  air 
wafted  from  the  heavenly  shores,  and  look  upon  the  glow- 
ing fields  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  of  divine  goodness. 
Then  will  3'our  face  shine  with  heavenly  radiance,  as  did 
the  face  of  Moses ;  then  will  you  exclaim  with  delighted 
Peter:  "Lord,  it  is  good  to  be  here;"  then  will  you  move 
among  men,  as  did  Paul,  desiring  to  know  nothing  save 
Jesus  and  him  crucified. 

As  I  was  returning  I  happened  to  pass  a  beautiful  field 
of  grain,  when  I  observed  to  the  husbandman  that  it  was 
a  pleasant  day. 

*'  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  but  it  is  dry." 

"  A  promising  field  you  have,"  I  continued. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  but  it  will  be  ruined  if  we  do  not 
have  some  rain  soon." 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  353 

"A  fine  lot  of  cattle  jou  have  in  yonder  pasture." 

"Yes,"  came  again,  in  the  same  modulation  of  voice^ 
"but  they  ain't  doing  very  well  just  now,  as  the  grass  is 
drying  up." 

I  continued  my  conversation  farther  with  him,  but  I 
could  not  get  him  out  of  the  ruts  of  his  gloomy  thoughts. 
And  doubtless  he  is  only  a  representative  of  a  class  who 
never  can  be  satisfied.  Unhappy  souls!  Public  torments! 
The  sun  shines  on  them  in  vain ;  they  only  see  clouds  and 
feel  cold  winds.  Blessings  are  poured  into  their  laps  to  no 
purpose;  they  only  think  of  desired  things  they  lack. 
Virtues  shine  in  their  neighbors  unseen;  faults  are  dis- 
covered in  every  feature;  a  virtue  seldom  mentioned 
without  a  depreciating  "  but."  Greet  them  on  a  glorious 
spring  morning  with  congratulations  over  its  bright- 
ness, and  they  will  growl  back,  "  We  shall  get  our  pay 
for  it;"  speak  of  the  noble  conduct  of  Mr.  D.,  and — 
"  Y-e-s,  but  he  had  no  good  purpose  in  the  act,"  will  be 
flung  in  your  face.  Is  anyone  charged  with  evil,  they  be- 
lieve before  they  fairly  hear;  suspicion  is  taken  for  cer- 
tainty; scandal  accepted  for  fact;  virtue  subjected  to  dis- 
count; a  stain  presumed  on  every  character;  evil  motives 
insinuated  where  none  are  apparent.  A  cloud  hangs  over 
their  spirits,  bitterness  drops  from  their  tongue;  there  is 
discord  within,  and  chafing  without.  They  absorb  no 
comfort  from  others,  but  emit  perpetual  discomfort  most 
burdensome  to  companionship.  The  good  recoil  from  their 
society,  are  annoyed  by  their  bitterness,  disturbed  by  their 
grumblings,  ofiended  by  their  injustice,  grieved  by  their 
miseries,  and  discouraged  over  perpetual  failures  to  infuse 
sunshine  into  their  experience. 

And  much  of  the  unhappiness  in  this  world  is  borrowed 
trouble.  Thus  we  fret  at  the  weather.  Either  it  is  too  hot 
or  too  cold;  too  wet  or  too  dry.  The  crops  will  be  a  fail- 
ure, or  something  else  we  cannot  help  is  out  of  its  regular 
23 


354  AUTOUIOGRAPHY. 

course.  All  this  is  wrong — it  is  more — it  is  wicked;  be- 
cause we  mistrust  the  goodncsS  and  wisdom  uf  God.  AVlij 
fret  at  all?  If  we  can  remedy  that  which  disturbs  our 
nerves,  whv  not  do  it,  and  thereby  remove  the  occasion  for 
frettinir?  If  '^^t'  cannot  remedy  it,  what  ffood  will  fret- 
ting  do? 

But  all  this  time  I  brooded  over  the  thought  how  I  could 
build  an  office  for  the  Censer.  It  worked  so  much  upon 
my  mind  that  I  in  fact  went  through  the  city  prospecting 
where  would  be  a  good  location  for  my  business,  and  I 
actually,  on  the  fourth  of  July,  went  to  a  man  who  had  a 
lot  for  sale  with  a  view  to  purchase.  But  the  lowest  sum 
for  which  the  ground  could  be  obtained  was  twenty-five 
liundred  dollars,  and  I  had  just  four  hundred  dollars  to  my 
credit  in  the  bank.  Not  much  of  a  prospect  for  placing 
the  Censer  building  on  that  lot.  But  then  I  did  not  give 
up  my  purpose.  I  had  fully  determined  to  build  an  office. 
And  when  a  man  determines  to  do  anvthinor  if  he  has  the 
real  metal  in  him,  he  will  go  through  fire  and  w^ter  but 
that  he  will  accomplish  his  object. 

There  is  a  saying.  I  d(~>  not  know  its  author,  which  is  as 
follows:  "  Trust  in  God  and  keen  your  powder  dry."  'Wlien 
I  heard  it  the  first  time  I  tluaiglit  it  almost  profane.  But 
the  more  I  reflect  upon  it,  the  more  real  common  sense  I  find 
in  it.  God  meant  that  we  use  all  our  own  resources  and 
energies  first,  and  then  we  may  reasonably  expect  his  aid. 
Acting  upon  this  principle,  I  applied  myself  very  closely 
to  my  business,  and  I  verily  believe  that  God  was  daily  an- 
swering my  prayer,  for  my  business  prospered,  subscrip- 
tions were  comin;;  in  and  every  few  davs  I  was  able  to 
dej>06it  in  the  bank.  In  the  meantime  I  took  good  care  of 
my  credit.  I  promptly  paid  cash,  and  asked  no  one  to 
trust  me.  I  also  denied  myself  every  luxury  and  even 
many  of  the  necessaries  of  life.     But  while  I  was  thus  sav- 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  355 

ing,  I  did  not  act  tlie  miser.  I  believe  iu  liberality.  Every 
truly  prosperous  man  is  a  liberal  man. 

The  first  thing  I  sought  to  accomplish  was  to  make  sure 
of  the  ground  on  which  to  build.  I  found  men  quite  will- 
ing to  wait  on  me,  if  I  would  give  them  everything  I  had 
for  security,  and  pay  ten  per  cent,  interest.  But  I  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  enter  into  such  engagements. 

While  I  was  prospecting,  one  day,  in  the  month  of 
August,  I  found  the  lot  on  the  corner  of  Main  and  Walnut 
streets,  for  sale;  but  the  lowest  figure  was  fifteen  hundred 
dollars.  At  this  time  I  had  one  thousand  dollars  in  the 
bank.  I  offered  it  to  him  right  in  hand  if  the  deed  would 
be  transferred  to  me;  but  the  lot  could  not  be  obtained  for 
that  amount.  After  some  four  weeks  I  again  met  Mr. 
Crawford,  who  had  the  sale  of  it,  and  asked  him  about  the 
lot.  He  said  that  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  was  the 
best  figure  at  which  he  could  make  it  to  me,  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  give  me  the  refusal  of  it  until  the  following 
day.  He  said  he  would.  The  next  morning,  I  went  to  his 
office  and  told  him  I  would  give  him  his  price,  if  he  would 
take  one  thousand  dollars  down  and  wait  on  me  thirty  days 
for  the  remaining  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  I  could  have  purchased 
the  lot  on  time,  but  I  did  not  want  to  do  that;  I  wanted  a 
clear  title. 

He  accepted  my  proposition,  and  gave  me  a  trust  deed. 
In  twenty-seven  days,  three  days  before  my  time  expired, 
I  came  with  the  remaining  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
and  the  title  was  duly  transferred  to  me. 

This  was  the  first  great  step  towards  the  new  office,  and 
it  was  successfully  taken  without  distressing  my  finances. 
All  this  was  accomplislied  before  the  first  of  December, 
1873,  and  before  the  Censer  readers  knew  anything  about 
what  was  coming. 

With  such  a  begiimingi  felt  warranted  in  unfolding  mj 


356  ATTTOBIOGRAPnY. 

purposes  to  mj  patrons.  I  set  forth  the  disadvantages 
under  whicli  I  was  laboring,  and  the  great  need  of  suitable 
quarters  in  which  I  could  print  the  Censee,  and  asked  for 
a  general  renewal,  and  for  a  list  of  three  thousand  new 
subscribers,  assuring  them  if  I  could  secure  their  co-oper- 
ation to  that  extent  the  object  would  be  realized. 

There  were  a  few  who  misconstrued  my  motives  as  selfish 
and  grasping,  but  the  great  majority  believed  me  sincere 
and  felt  I  was  doing  a  good  work,  and  hence  worthy  of  the 
patronage  asked.  However,  weighed  down  with  anxiety 
as  I  was,  I  was  very  careful  not  to  press  the  matter  pub- 
licly, but  I  did  press  it  at  the  throne  of  Grace. 

About  this  time,  in  addition  to  my  office  labors,  I  preach- 
ed twice  every  Sabbath  at  appointments,  one  twenty  and 
the  other  twenty-six  miles  from  Eockford,  and  which 
could  not  be  reached  by  railroad.  I  usually  set  out  for 
these  appointments  on  Saturday  evening,  and  often  arriv- 
ing quite  late.  While  riding  over  the  prairies  in  the  fall 
and  winter,  I  suffered  very  much  from  the  piercing  prairie 
winds.  But  I  was  about  my  Master's  work  and  was  will- 
ing to  suffer. 

While  thus  facing  the  storms  in  reaching  my  congrega- 
tions I  kept  myself  mentally  warm  by  meditations,  and  as  I 
reflect  on  the  vast  multitudes  destitute  of  the  gospel— spend- 
ing their  Sabbaths  in  dances  and  many  other  sinful  diver- 
sions, the  words  of  the  Lord  often  came  into  my  mind, 
''And  I  souirht  for  a  man  amons^  them  that  should  make 
up  the  hedge,  and  stand  in  the  gap  before  me  for  the  land, 
that  I  should  not  destroy  it;  but  I  found  none."  Perhaps 
not  a  more  graphic  picture  of  general  degeneracy  can  be 
found  in  the  annals  of  the  Israelites  than  in  the  words  just 
quoted.  It  can  not  be  otherwise  than  that  there  was  a  gen- 
eral corruption  of  prophets,  priests,  princes  and  people.  The 
Lord  was  in  great  anger  with  them,  and  yet  his  loving 
kindness  was  so  great   that  he  sought  for  a  man  among 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  357 

them,  "that  should  make  up  the  hedge,  and  stand  in  the 
gap"  before  him  in  the  land,  that  he  should  not  destroy  it; 
but  he  found  none.  How  fearful  this  picture,  how  wide- 
spread the  degeneracy  of  the  people,  yea,  of  the  whole  peo- 
ple, when  neither  the  prophets,  priests,  princes  nor  people 
were  true  to  their  allegiance  to  God!  When  they  had  all 
betrayed  their  trusts,  and  not  one  was  found  to  "make  up 
the  hedge."  When  we  witness  the  frauds  and  dishonest 
means  employed  at  the  present  day  to  overreach  and  ex- 
tort the  unsuspecting,  and  this  in  an  age  of  advanced  intel- 
ligence, we  may  form  some  idea  as  to  what  the  people  must 
have  been  when  there  was  not  one  found  faithful  to  God. 
The  prophets  must  have  been  anything  but  inspired,  the 
priests  profane  and  unscrupulous,  the  princes  corrupt  and 
disloyal,  the  people  oppressive  and  cruel.  It  could  hardly 
have  been  otherwise.  So  they  were  a  nation  of  transgres- 
.sors — utterly  regardless  of  the  claim  of  God  upon  them. 

Amid  such  universal  ungratefulness  and  rebellion,  it  is 
a  wonder  that  the  hot  ])reath  of  God's  slighted  mercy  did 
not  sweep  them  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  This  would 
have  been  man's  way.  However,  God  was  kind  and  long- 
suffering,  and  instead  of  sending  swift  judgment  to  destroy 
them,  he  looked  all  through  their  ranks  to  find  one  man 
w^ho  would  make  up  the  hedge,  and  stand  in  the  gap.  For 
one  man  that  would  stand  up  for  the  truth  and  vindicate 
justice,  and  plead  the  right  of  God  and  man.  But  sad,  in- 
deed, it  was,  there  was  not  even  one  found. 

From  these  words  we  may  learn  two  things.  First: 
Men,  amid  universal  prosperity,  are  prone  to  forget  God, 
the  author  of  every  good.  Instead  of  rendering  unto  the 
Creator  grateful  thanks,  they  turn  their  hearts  towards  the 
good  which  he  so  bountifully  gives,  and  worship  it.  Sec- 
ond, God  is  patient,  long  suffering,  and  stays  merited  pun- 
ishment for  a  season.  Yea,  more,  he  even  looks  around  to 
see  if  he  can  find  a  man  who  will  have  the  boldness  to 


HoS  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

*•  make  up  tlie  liodge,  and  stand  in  the  gap.'-     This  is  very 
forcibly  illustrated  in  the  words  quoted. 

Now  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  God  is  just  the  same  in 
all  ao-es,  and  that  whoever  will  stand  in  the  gap,  and  make 
up  the  hedge — i.  6.,  will  stand  firmly  for  God,  execute  ven- 
o^eance  by  pleading  the  cause  of  God,  and  \'indicating  his 
justice,  and  denouncing  sin  in  the  clearest  manner,  shall 
aid  in  turning  away  wrath,  and  in  securing  the  divine 
favor  for  others  and  for  himself.  Hence  it  is,  that  ^ome 
ministers  will  preach  the  thunders  of  Sinai,  and  of  the  t-er- 
rors  of  hell,  just  as  they  are  laid  down  in  the  Bible,  and 
show  that  God  is  infinitely  just  in  all  those  fearful  threat- 
eninors,  and  that  men  deserve  to  be  damned  who  will  not  ac- 
cept  of  blood-bought  mercy,  and  God  is  pleased  with  their 
fidelity,  and  pours  out  his  Spirit,  and  saves  the  very  per- 
sons who  hear  the  denunciations,  and  honors  himself  and 
his  servants. 

I  know  the  stale  and  worn-out  apologies  used  by  those 
who  have  more  refinement  than  religion,  that  the  age  is  a 
cultured  one;  that  men  do  not  wish  to  be  disturbed  by  the 
terrors  of  the  law;  that  God  is  love.  Granted.  But  do  we 
not  find  wickedness  rearino^  its  scarlet  front  to  the  verv 
sky?  Take  up  a  daily  paper  and  note  its  contents.  The 
catalogue  of  crime  is  enough  to  make  the  blood  run  cold 
in  one's  veins.  Now  we  must  have  men  who  will  hurl  the 
thunderbolts  of  the  Almighty  right  at  the  hearts  of  evil- 
doers. It  may  not  be  wisdom  to  take  a  sinner  and  hold 
him  over  the  flames  of  hell  until  he  cries  out  for  help,  yet 
we  must  preach  of  hell,  and  its  awful  terrors  as  freely  and 
as  forcibly  as  we  preach  of  heaven  and  its  glories,  and 
multitudes  will  be  broiight  to  God.  The  pentecostal 
sermon,  under  which  three  thousand  were  converted,  was 
of  this  type. 

And  am  I  uncharitable  when  I  opine  that  one  of  the  rea- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIOIfS.  doH 

sons  why  so  many  ministers  are  powerless  in  their  preach- 
ing is,  they  do  not  take  sides  squarely  with  God,  bnt  for 
fear  of  feeble  man,  the  Spirit's  course  in  them  is  restrain- 
ed, and  they  preach  a  kind  of  compromise  gospel,  which  is 
an  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God.  The  modern  idea  of 
culture  and  refinement  has,  in  some  localities,  advanced  so 
far  that  some  of  the  namby-pamby  sort  cannot  even  talk 
good  plain  English — cannot  even  avail  themselves  of  in- 
telligible expressions.  Thus,  one  minister  describes  a  tear 
as  "that  small  particle  of  aqueous  fluid  trickling  from  the 
visual  organ  over  the  lineaments  of  the  countenance,  be- 
tokening grief."  I  have  heard  of  one  talking  in  the  pul- 
pit of  "  the  deep,  intuitive  glance  of  the  soul,  penetrating 
beyond  the  surface  of  the  superficial  phenomenal,  to  the 
remote  recesses  of  absolute  entity  or  beings;  thus  adum- 
brating its  immortality  in  its  precognative  perceptions;" 
while  another — and  a  highly  eminent  man,  head  of  a  col- 
lege for  ministers — when  he  read  a  well-known  passage  of 
Scripture,  shrank  from  the  plain  vernacular,  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  on  me,  as  the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of  his — "  he 
took  refuo^e  in  the  classics — "  his  ventriculum  shall  flow 
rivers  of  living  waters."  Yes,  our  preachers  ought  to 
know  how  to  use  words  or  else  calamities  will  happen. 

~Ro  wonder  that  not  a  soul  is  saved  from  year  to  year; 
and  no  wonder  that  the  churches  backslide  under  their 
preaching.  This  is  a  fearful  calamity,  and  this  so  called 
"  emasculated  gospel"  is  robbed  of  its  strength  and  power, 
aud  it  is  rather  a  human  invention  than  the  ''  power  of 
God  unto  salvation."  And  it  is  to  be  feared  that  this 
very  fault  is  the  reason  of  the  "decay  of  the  public  con- 
science," and  why  such  open,  barefaced  frauds,  murders, 
adulteries,  fornications,  suicides,  fratricides,  and  all  man- 
ner of  abominations  are  committed  among  us  with  such 
daring  effrontery.  We  need  more  Boanerges,  or  sons  of 
thunder  in  the  pulpit;  we  need   men  that  flash  forth  the 


3  CO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

law  of  God  like  livid  lightning,  and  arouse  the  con- 
sciences of  men.  TVe  need  more  Puritanism  in  the  pulpit. 
Under  their  teachinor  there  was  a  different  state  of  the  in- 
dividual  and  the  public  conscience  from  what  exits  in  these 
days. 

Is  it  possible  that  the  offense  of  the  cross  has  ceased,  or 
is  the  cross  kept  out  of  view?  Is  it  possible  that  the  holy 
law  of  God,  with  its  stringent  precepts  and  its  awful  penal- 
ties, has  become  popular  with  the  worldling  and  the  sin- 
ner? or  is  it  ignored  in  the  pulpit  and  the  press,  and  the 
preacher  and  editor  praised  for  neglect  of  duty  for  which 
their  lips  and  pens  should  be  inspired?  I  conscientiously 
believe  the  only  possible  way  to  arrest  this  downward  ten- 
dency in  private  and  public  morals,  is  the  holding  up  from 
the  pulpits  and  the  religious  press  of  the  land,  with  un- 
sparing faithfulness,  the  whole  gospel  of  God,  including  as 
the  rule  of  life  the  perfect  and  holy  law  of  God.     The  hold- 
ing up  of  this  law  will  reveal  the  moral  depravity  of  the 
heart,    and   the  holding   forth  of  the  cleansing  blood  of 
Christ    to  cleanse   the  heart   from    sin.      That   ministers 
everywhere  might  have  glorious  results  of  their  labors  is 
as  certain  as  the  gospel  promises   are  sure  and  steadfast  if 
they  would  stand  in  the  gap,  and  fill  up  the  hedge,  and 
fully  take  sides  with  God,  and  denounce  all  manner  of  sin 
in  the  church  or  out  of  it,  and  declare  that  everlasting  de- 
struction awaits  the  finally  impenitent,  and  that  the  smoke 
of  their  torments  will  ascend  forever  and  ever.     Such  plain, 
faithful,    earnest  testimonies   against  the    soulless    essays 
about  religion  —  the  husks  on   which  too  many  popular 
churches  are  fed — would  produce  a  moral  revolution.     O 
Lord,  pour  out  thy  Spirit  upon  the  ministry  of  the  land, 
and  grant  that  they   may  arouse  themselves  to  fill  up  the 
full  measure  of  their  responsibility,  and  warn  the  people  of 
the  danger  that  may  beset  their  feet!  And  let  the  people 
pray  for  the  ministers.     Moses  per  vailed  so  long  as  the 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  361 

people  held  up  his  hands,  so  shall  your  pastor  prevail  if 
you  hold  up  his  hands. 

Perhaps,  in  justice  to  myself,  and  to  correct  false  im- 
pressions, I  should  here  state  that  excepting  this  brief 
ministry  of  three  months,  and  though  I  liad  preached  at 
many  places,  I  never  accepted  anything  for  my  services, 
but  have  often  paid  my  own  traveling  expenses  besides 
giving  my  labors.  My  object  was  not  to  make  money,  but 
to  labor  for  the  good  of  souls,  and  if  one  redeemed  soul 
shall  be  saved  through  these  humble  efforts  I  shall  be  am- 
ply repaid  for  all  my  labors. 

But  I  toiled  on  faithfully  for  the  accomplishment  of 
what  I  had  undertaken,  and  I  was  very  much  cheered  by 
the  substantial  evidence,  for  the  people  were  so  united 
with  me  in  carrying  out  my  contemplated  plans,  by  which 
I  could  secure  an  office  building,  that  by  the  first  of  Feb- 
ruary over  1,500  of  the  3,000  new  subscribers  were  secured, 
and  most  of  the  old  subscribers  renewed.  So  confident  was  I 
that  the  greatly-needed  office  would  be  built,  that  I  secur- 
ed the  services  of  Geo.  Bradley,  of  this  city,  at  an  expense 
of  fifty  dollars,  to  draft  the  plan  of  building  and  to  make 
out  the  specifications  for  the  same,  and  on  the  ninth  of 
March,  1874,  the  contract  for  the  building  was  given  to 
Thos.  Ennit,  and  Alvord  &  Kelly.  The  building  was  to 
be  63  feet  deep,  28  feet  front  on  Main  street,  with  two  pro- 
jections so  constructed  that  they  would  give  20  feet  front 
on  Walnut  street  and  a  depth  of  34  feet.  The  structure 
was  to  be  three  stories,  the  first  of  stone,  and  the  second 
and  third  of  brick,  the  stone  wall  to  be  20  inches  and  the 
brick  wall  12  inches,  and  the  whole  to  be  built  of  the  best 
material  and  in  the  most  substantial  manner. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  greatest  thrills  of  satisfaction  and  of 
hopes  about  to  be  realized  was  when  I  beheld  the  first  load 
of  stones  going  up  Main  street  to  the  spot  where  the  Cen- 
ser building  now  is.     It  then  seemed  as  if  one  of  the  great- 


3C2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

est  undertakings  in  my  life  was  being  accomplished,  and, 
as  a  friend  afterward  said  to  me,  that  he  trembled  for  me 
as  he  saw  the  walls  of  such  a  goodly  proportioned  building 
going  up,  knowing  that  such  a  building  would  cost  many 
thousands  of  dollars,  and  he  did  not  know  where  the  money 
was  all  coming  from,  and  he  expressed  my  feelings,  only 
he  spoke  from  observation,  but  in  my  mind  lived  the  real- 
itv.  But  a  year  before  this,  I  was  praying  with  that  simple 
trust  in  God,  that  if  it  was  for  his  glory  he  would  open  the 
way  for  a  home  for  the  Censer,  and  thereby  increase  its  use 
fulness.     And  now  the  prayer  was  being  answered. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  363 


OHAPTEE  XX. 

The  Building  Gradually  Advancing  to  its  Completion — 
The  Astonishment  of  those  who  Despised  the  Censer — 
Unparalleled  Success— The  Wonderful  Circulation  of 
The  Paper— Its  New  Dress  and  Enlargement— Conclu- 
sion. 

In  this  world  time  is  measured  bj  jears.  Partings  and 
separations  take  place,  and  friends  weep  because  we  shall 
see  them  no  more.  The  Censer  had  run  the  circuit  of 
another  year.  In  more  respects  than  one  it  had  been  a 
year  of  unparalleled  prosperity.  We  cast  up  another  stone 
in  the  journey  of  h'fe  and  wrote  upon  it,  "Hitherto  the 
Lord  hath  helpt  us."  And  what  a  moment  for  reflection! 
Xear  the  close  of  the  year  there  is  what  astronomers  call 
the  solstice — the  sun,  as  the  word  imports,  seems  to  stand 
still  for  a  while,  as  if  looking  back  on  the  past,  and  looking 
forward  to  the  future,  before  he  makes  a  new  departure  in 
his  annual  course.  It  is  eminently  fitting  that  we  pause 
now  and  then  in  the  journey  of  life,  and  take  a  glance 
backward  over  the  path  of  our  pilgrimage,  and  note  the 
way  by  which  God  hath  led  us,  and  how  far,  and  in  what 
direction  the  noiseless  foot  of  time  has  carried  us. 

It  is  true  we  have  toiled  through  another  year.  God 
only  knows  tlie  result  of  our  labor.  According  to  the 
measure  of  ability  given  us,  we  have  done  the  best  we 
could,  and  yet,  after  all  this,  we  are  but  an  unprofitable 
servant  at  best.  We  have  tried  to  faithfully  and  honestly 
hold  up  to  our  readers  a  pure  gospel  standard,  in  the  kind- 
est spirit  possible.  That  we  have  erred  is  only  human. 
As  we  write,  our  heart  is  pressed  down  with  the  weight 


364 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


of  responsibility  resting  upon  us,  and  with  the  simplicity 
of  a  child,  we  humbly  ask  for  patience,  for  wisdom,  for  a 
tender  heart,  for  an  abiding  love  to  labor  and  toil  for  the 
Master.  We  want  to  daily  breathe  the  atmosphere  of 
'heaven.  With  these  words  we  closed  volume  sixth  of  the 
Golden   Censer. 

The  prospects  for  volume  seventh  were  very  flattering. 
I  had  print  paper  enough  in  store — and  all  paid  for — to 
take  me  to  the  15th  of  August,  at  which  time  I  expected 
the  new  building  to  be  completed. 

Also  by  the  1st  of  May  the  first  story  of  the  new  office 
was  completed  when  the  first  payment  was  made.  This 
called  for  $1,150,  leaving  me  only  §150  with  which  to 
complete  a  building  on  which  over  $5,000  more  must  be 
paid  if  I  met  my  contract.  The  contract  called  for  some- 
thing less  than  §6,000,  and  I  found  before  the  building 
was  completed  that  I  was  out  §1,200  more  than  the  origin- 
al contract.  The  reader  may  form  some  idea  of  my  un- 
bounded faith  in  God,  when  I  here  tell  him  that  when  I 
gave  the  contract  to  the  parties  named  at  the  close  of  the 
last  chapter  I  had  but  §1,300  at  my  command,  and  had  no 
reasonable  ground  of  hope  where  the  needed  §6,000  was 
coming  from,  except  that  where  there  was  a  will  there  was 
a  way,  and  if  there  was  no  way  God  would  make  one.  The 
contract  stipulated  seven  payments,  which  were  to  be  made 
as  the  building  progressed,  with  ten  days'  notice  before 
each  payment. 

AVith  these  foundations,  and  with  my  head  full  of  doubts 
and  fears,  steeped  in  anxieties,  and  my  heart  full  of  hope 
and  expectant  trust,  volume  seventh  opened  with  consid- 
erable improvements  over  former  volumes.  While  I  was 
anxious  as  to  the  issue  of  my  gigantic  undertaking,  I  was 
also  greatly  comforted,  strengthened  and  encouraged  by 
tlie  universal  satisfaction  the  Censer  was  giving  its  read- 
ers,  and  the  united  voice   of  the  people   coming  up  to  me 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  365 

from  all  parts  of  our  goodly  land  bidding  me  to  be  of  good 
cheer. 

But  I  was  almost  overwhelmed  with  gratitude  when  I 
learned  the  full  returns  of  my  spring  receipts.  They  went 
beyond  all  expectation,  reaching  the  unprecedented  sura  of 
$1,700.  Truly  God  was  in  this.  On  former  years  my  re- 
ceipts for  the  same  period  reached  only  $500  or  $600.  If 
there  is  an  infidel  who  may  read  these  pages  who  can  explain 
these  evidences  on  rationalistic  grounds,  he  can  do  more 
than  I  could.  As  the  Almighty  spoke  to  Israel's  hosts,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Ked  Sea  to  go  forward,  so  it  seemed  to  me 
God  was  commanding  me  to  advance. 

I  now  had  $3,000  of  the  $6,000  needed,  and  I  could  see 
my  way  somewhat  more  clearly.  It  will  be  remembered 
I  owned  a  residence  which  cost  me  $3,000  and  it  was  worth 
all  it  cost.  Thus  I  had  enough  to  make  sure  of  not  being 
bankrupt  in  my  undertaking.  This  I  offered  for  sale,  I 
was  willino^  to  sacrifice  all  to  secure  the  needed  buildino^. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  I  unfolded  my  pur- 
poses of  building  an  office  to  my  patrons,  in  the  last 
chapter,  I  asked  for  three  thousand  new  subscribers;  but 
the  Censer  readers  and  supporters  were  so  enthusiastic 
and  determined  that  I  should  succeed  that  not  only  the 
tbree  thousand  new  subscribers  asked  for  were  secured,  but 
several  hundred  more.  Besides  these  and  the  prompt  re- 
newals, some  of  my  patrons  contributed — unasked — $174.- 
53.  Why  it  seemed  like  a  dream.  I  could  not  tell  why  it 
was  thus,  only  God  was  answering  prayers.  My  patrons 
may  often  have  wondered  why  I  selected  for  a  motto  of  the 
paper  these  words:  "  In  God  we  trust."  Here,  good  friends, 
is  the  explanation.  Truly  it  is  all  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it 
is  marvelous  in  our  eyes. 

As  the  building  was  gradually  rising,  and  as  the  pay- 
ments became  due,  I  promptly  met  my  obligations.  Indeed, 
my  builders  had  to  wait  on  me  only  long  enough  for  me 


36g  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to  write  out  a  check  for  the  amount  due.  So  prompt  was 
I  that  they  decLared  that  they  never  worked  on  a  job  where 
tliey  had  less  cause  for  complaint,  and  they  naturally 
enon/^h,  not  knowing  the  circumstances,  imagined  me  the 
possessor  of  some  gold  mine. 

Up  to  the  20th  of  June,  when  my  heaviest — and  next  to 
the  last — payment  was  to  be  made,  I  had  not  succeeded  in 
selling  my  house  and  lot.  This  necessitated  me  to  secure 
the  loan  of  $1,000,  which  I  readily  obtained,  without  even 
mort^airincr  the  Censer  building.  With  this  loan,  the 
general  consent  of  my  employes  to  withhold  their  wages 
until  I  had  met  my  other  obligations,  and  the  continued 
pouring  in  of  receipts  on  the  Censer,  T  was  fully  provided 
to  meet  all  contracts  by  the  29th  of  June. 

Had  I  been  an  infidel,  in  contrasting  one  year  ago  with 
this,  I  should  have  been  compelled  to  believe  that  there  is 
a  God.  As  it  was,  lirmly  believing  in  answered  prayers, 
and  implicitly  trusting  in  Almighty  God,  I  could  very 
clearly  trace  the  Guiding  Hand.  It  is  when  we  commit 
all  our  ways  unto  the  Lord  that  he  provides  for  us.  This 
is  one  of  the  hardest  lessons  for  us  to  learn.  It  is  so  natural 
and  human  to  fret,  mistrust,  and  apprehend  untoward  cir- 
cumstances. I  verily  believe  that  if  all  the  churches  in 
the  land  and  all  the  Christians  would  live  lives  of  simple 
trust,  peace  like  rivers  would  flow  down  our  very  streets. 
There  would  be  no  need  of  resorting  to  all  the  expediencies 
of  the  world  to  meet  our  religious  obligations.  I  do  not 
think  God  accepts  the  money  filched  from  the  pockets  by 
oyster  suppers,  church  fairs,  strawberry  festivals,  and 
church  iiuctions.  In  all  these  expediencies  we  copy  after 
the  world,  without  either  consulting  the  Lord  or  trusting 
or  confiding  in  his  love  and  goodness.  x\nd  so  long  as  we 
take  it  upon  ourselves  to  meet  our  church  obligations  by 
these  unsanctified  and  questionable  means,  the  Lord  will 
let  us,  just  as  he  permits  the  ungodly  person  to  sin.     There 


PERSONAL    ftECOLLEOTIONS.  367 

are  many  instances  by  which  I  could  illustrate  and  estab- 
lish the  principles  above  set  forth.  The  Bible  is  full  of 
them.  God's  honor  is  pledged  to  be  with  his  people,  and 
he  is  good  for  all  he  has  ever  promised  us  if  we  will  only 
meet  the  conditions  of  the  promise.  The  path  of  the  just 
i^  a  shining  way.  The  righteous  are  as  the  sun.  Why, 
you  know  the  path  of  the  sun  to  be  a  radiant  path;  it  is 
not  only  glorious — that  expresses  but  half  the  truth.  It  is 
glorious  because  it  is  radiant.  The  sun  is  not  like  the 
moon,  a  mere  reflector,  glittering  with  borrowed  light.  If 
the  mountains  could  be  lifted  up  until  they  should  enclose 
it  like  a  wall,  and  the  clouds  ascending  from  the  mountains 
should  concentrate  their  masses  and  overarch  it  like  a 
roof,  it  would  shine  still.  Nay,  made  the  more  intense  by 
the  confinement,  it  would  turn  the  mountains  into  dia- 
monds, and  the  clouds  into  crystal,  and  dash  through  them 
all  and  fill  the  world  with  new  splendors. 

So  with  the  path  of  the- just.  His  glory  is  from  within; 
it  is  a  radiation.  Put  him  where  you  will,  he  shines. 
For  instance,  imprison  Joseph,  and  he  will  shine  out  on  all 
Egypt,  cloudless  as  the  sky  where  the  rain  never  falls. 
Imprison  Daniel,  and  the  dazzled  lions  will  return  to  their 
lairs,  and  the  king  come  forth  at  his  rising,  and  all  Baby- 
lon bless  the  beauty  of  the  brighter  and  better  day.  Im- 
prison Peter,  and  with  an  angel  for  his  harbinger  star,  h/ 
will  spread  his  aurora  from  the  fountains  of  the  Jordan  to 
the  wells  of  Beersheba,  and  break  like  the  morning,  over 
mountain  and  sea.  Imprison  Paul,  and  there  will  be  high 
noon  over  all  the  Roman  empire.  Banish  John,  and  the 
isles  of  the  ^gean,  and  all  the  coasts  around,  will  kindle 
with  sunset  visions  too  gorgeous  to  be  described,  but 
never  to  be  forgotton — a  boundless  panorama  of  prophecy, 
gilding  from  sky  to  sky,  and  enchanting  the  nations  with 
openings  of  heaven,  transits  of  saints  and  angels,  and  the 
ultimate  glory  of  the  city  and  kingdom  of  God.     Not  only 


36S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

60,  for  modern  times  have  similar  examples  in  church  and 
the  state.  For  instance,  bnrj  Luther  in  the  depths  of  the 
Black  Forest,  and  "the  angel  that  dwelt  in  the  bush"  will 
lionor  him  there;  the  trees  around  him  will  burn  like  shafts 
of  rubv,  and  his  glowing  orb  loom  up  again,  round  and 
clear,  as  the  light  of  Europe.  Thrust  Bunyan  into  the 
gloom  of  Bedford  jail,  and,  as  he  leans  his  head  on  his 
hand,  the  murkv  horizon  of  Britain  will  flame  with  fierv 
symbols — "  delectable  mountains"  and  celestial  mansions, 
with  holy  pilgrims  grouj^ed  on  the  golden  hills,  and  bands 
of  bliss  from  the  gates  of  pearl,  hastening  to  welcome  them 
home.  These  are  only  a  few  of  the  thousands  of  instances  that 
might  be  brought  forward.  Xor  are  proofs  wanting  in 
this  remote  day.  For  instance,  Muller's  great  work  in 
Bristol,  England;  the  Home  for  Fallen  Women  in  Kew 
ITork;  the  asylum  for  the  afflicted  in  Boston,  and  many 
more  humanitarian  and  benevolent  institutions  in  the  land 
which  are  raven-fed  and  provided  for  by  a  heavenly 
Father  who  knows  all  our  wants.  Besides,  it  does  not  seem 
god-like  to  thrust  a  religion  upon  us  without  giving  us 
the  means  to  support  and  maintain  it,  without  resorting 
to  the  devil's  troops  for  aid.  If  we  would  only  let  God  do 
for  us,  the  world  would  be  taken  for  Christ  in  less  than 
ten  years.  But  until  people  will  learn  this  lesson,  the 
^'orld  will  groan  under  its  burden,  sinners  will  go  down 
to  hell,  and  only  eternity  will  disclose  to  us  how  much  of 
the  guilt  will  be  attached  to  our  faithlessness.  When  peo- 
\)\e  applauded  me  for  my  unprecedental  success  in  an  un- 
dertaking so  forbiddiu:;,  I  liave  always  rebuked  such  by 
telling  them  that  the  glory  all  belongs  to  the  Lord,  I  am 
only  the  poor  worm  with  which  he  is  threshing  a  moun- 
tain, and  just  so  long  as  I  am  passive  under  the  flail  of  the 
Alminrhty,  so  long  will  the  Cexser  be  a  living  wonder  and 
suq3rise  to  those  who  do  not  recognize  the  doctrine  that 
God  provides.  Oh,  if  T  only  had  the  power  to  impress 
those  cfrand  truths  upon  the  hearts  of  my  readers. 


■PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  369 

But,  as  might  be  expected,  I  had  many  letters  coming 
to  me  warning  me  of  the  dangers  of  flattery  and  the  van- 
ities following  success.  Well,  these  good  people  did  not 
fully  know  the  furnace  of  affliction  through  which  I  had 
come,  and  I  kindly  thanked  them  for  their  timely  monitions. 
If  there  is  one  thing  above  another  that  grieves  me,  it  is 
to  see  a  poor  miserable  worm  of  the  dust  trying  to  be 
proud.  I  do  believe  vain  people  are  among  the  most  dis- 
contented on  the  face  of  the  globe.  Observe  how  self- 
importance  makes  a  man  moody  and  unhappy.  He  who 
is  always  thinking  of  his  own  excellences  renders  himself 
thereby  unfit  to  enjoy  the  good  of  others,  and  is  prone  to 
imagine  that  every  token  of  affection  given  to  another  is 
an  insult  offered  to  himself.  Hence  he  is  touchy,  sensitive, 
irritable,  and  envious.  He  takes  offense  when  none  is 
meant,  and  even  when  those  around  him  are  not  thinking 
of  him  at  all  he  interprets  their  conduct  as  if  it  were  studi- 
ously discourteous,  and  goes  through  the  world  smarting 
from  wounds  that  have  sprung  not  sO  much  from  neglect  of 
others  as  from  his  own  over-weening  self-conceit. 

There  is  no  surer  way  to  make  ourselves  miserable  than 
to  think  of  ourselves  more  highly  than  we  ought  to  think. 
It  isolates  us  from  all  about  us.  It  cuts  us  off  alike  from 
human  sympathy  and  divine  assistance.  It  makes' us  very 
Ishmaels,  with  our  hands  against  every  man  and  every 
man's  hands  ap2:)arently  against  us.  It  gives  a  jaundiced 
hue  to  the  behavior  of  those  who,  so  far  from  meaning  to 
do  evil  to  us,  have  our  best  interests  at  heart,  and  love  us 
with  self-sacrificing  affection.  The  man  who  has  a  wound 
about  him,  no  matter  where  it  may  be,  feels  it  to  be  al- 
w^ays  in  his  way.  Let  him  do  what  he  will,  or  go  where  he 
may,  he  cannot  move  himself  but  he  is  conscious  of  its 
pain.  In  like  manner  he  who  has  this  feeling  of  self-im- 
portance is  continually  smarting.  Somebody  has  been 
slighting  him.  He  is  constantly  complaining  of  having 
24 


or 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


beeu  iuflulted,  and  when  honor  is  given  to  anotlier  he  feels 
nothing  but  tliat  he  has  been  overlooked.  Thus  he  t-huta 
lii nisei f  out  from  every  festival,  and  mopes  most  of  all 
when  others  are  merry.  May  God  deliver  me  from  this 
idolatrv  of  self,  on  whose  altar  all  true  nobleness  and  real 
happiness  are  completely  immolated. 

As  the  Censer  building  progressed  towards  its  comple- 
tion, the  builders  were  inspired  with  such  confidence  to- 
wards me  that  they  several  times  urged  me  to  let  them 
finish  the  entire  structure.  The  c<jntract  only  specified  the 
enclosing  of  the  building  and  the  finifching  of  actually 
needed  rooms.  I  did  not  expect,  when  I  let  the  job,  that 
more  than  this  could  be  accomplished — and  not  even  this 
without  incurring  heavy  debts.  But  my  prompt  payments 
inspired  my  contractors  to  make  their  proposals  for  com- 
pleting the  edifice.  I  frankly  told  them  I  had  only  money 
enough  to  meet  my  obligations  to  them.  "Well,"  they 
said,  "  we  won't  crowd  you.  It  will  be  better  for  the 
building  and  a  saving  to  you  to  complete  the  work  now. 
We  will  give  you  any  reasonable  time  to  pay  us  in,  and 
will  charge  you  but  six  per  cent,  interest."  But  I  sup- 
posed that  to  let  them  do  the  work  would  involve  the  ne- 
cessity of  mortgaging  the  building,  and,  hence,  I  farther 
told  them  that  I  had  a  pride  about  me  to  keep  the  Censer 
building  clear  from  all  mortgages.  To  this  they  replied, 
"We  will  finish  this  building  as  the  specifications  indicate, 
and  take  your  note  without  security  or  an  endorser."  I 
was  greatly  surprised  at  the  confidence  of  these  men,  and 
said  to  myself,  such  confidence  shall  never  be  betrayed. 
So  I  was  persuaded  to  let  them  finish  the  building;  which 
they  did. 

Al>out  this  time  the  circulation  of  the  Censer  had  so  in- 
creased that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  use  steam  pow- 
er. I  had  hoped  I  could  defer  this  necessity  until  I  had 
strengthened   myself  a  little,  for  I  had   invested  my  last 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  37 1 

dollar  in  the  building,  and  ran  seven  hundred  and  ten  dol- 
lars in  debt  besides.  But  one  of  the  employes  in  the 
office  had  such  faitli  in  the  Censer  and  confidence  in  the 
editor's  honesty,  and,  though  he  had  given  me  the  use  of 
his  wages  since  March,  yet  lie  offered  to  advance  the  money 
to  purchase  the  eugine;  and  the  engine  was  duly  ordered. 

On  the  last  AYednesday  iu  August,  1ST4,  rooms  in  the 
new  office  were  sufficiently  finished  to  "move,  and,  accord- 
ingly, the  employes,  as  well  as  myself,  were  glad  to  "pull 
up  stakes"  and  move.  Hence  the  Censer  was  removed 
from  Shaw's  block  to  the  new  office.  This  made  the  third 
move,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  Providence  permitting,  the 
Censer  has  changed  its  location  for  the  last  time.  I  am 
very  much  opposed  to  changes.  Said  a  preacher  to  me 
when  the  first  number  of  the  Censer  made  its  appearance, 
"So  you  have  finally  decided  to  make  a  trial  of  it  here,  have 
you?  You  will  find  it  an  up-hill  business."  I  calmly  re- 
plied, though  a  righteous  indignation  filled  my  heart,  that 
"I  had  set  the  stake,  and  I  would  hang  on  to  it  though  I 
should  stand  shoulder  deep  in  difficulties  and  oppositions." 
Well,  I  have  stood  to  my  stake,  and  now  under  God's 
blessing  was  moving  into  an  eight  thousand  dollar  office, 
and  out  from  under  the  clutches  of  landlords;  and  the  read- 
er may  rest  assured  that  I  greatly  appreciated  the  change. 

AYe  had  scarcely  located  our  fixtures  in  the  new  office 
when  the  new  engine  arrived,  and  the  second  number  is- 
sued from  the  new  quarters  was  printed  by  steam !  This 
was  another  great  triumph.  The  Censer  in  an  office  of  its 
own  and  printed  by  steam!  Surely  this  was  climbing  the 
hill  of  prosperity  faster  than  I  had  ever  anticipated. 

However,  there  were  the  steam  fixtures,  the  connections, 
pumps,  water  and  steam  pipes,  plumbing  and  many  inci- 
dental expenses  which  took  several  hundred  dollars  more. 
By  the  time  the  office  was  in  good  working  condition,  I 
was  pretty  hard  pressed  for  funds,  but  I  kept  up  a  good 


372  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

heart  and  trusted  in   God.     He  knew  where  the  money 
was,  and,  if  I  deserved  it,  it  would  be  forthcoming.     Still 
my  credit  was  good,  yet  I  was  careful  not  to  assume  any' 
more  o])ligations  than  I  could  possibly  avoid. 

While  thus  struggling  along  to  get  square  onto  my  feet 
af»^in,  I  found  a  purchaser  for  my  house  and  lot;  and  sold 
it. 

Tlie  reader  will  of  course  understand  that  in  the  econ- 
omy of  things,  I  combined  in  the  new  Censer  building 
both  an  office  and  a  dwelling,  and  hence  by  selling  my 
house  and  lot,  I  was  disposing  of  property  I  did  not  need, 
and  upon  which  I  had  counted  in  the  building  of  the  office 

The  sale  of  this  enabled  me  to  take  up  the  note  of  one 
thousand  dollars  which  I  had  given  in  affecting  the  loan 
spoken  of  above,  and  also  my  note  given  the  builders  for 
completing  the  building.  By  this  stroke  of  good  fortune 
the  new  building  was  all  completed,  and  not  a  cent  of  in- 
debtedness upon  it! 

But  the  days  were  shortening  and  winter  was  approach- 
ino^,  and  bv  December  and  Januarv  the  office  was  flooded 
with  renewals  and  new  subscribers  as  never  before.  I  was 
astonished  out  of  measure!  Could  it  be  possible?  The 
Censer  was  a  child  of  faith.  All  alono-  I  recoo:nized  God 
in  my  labors;  but  now  it  seemed  that  the  measure  of  pros- 
perity was  filled,  heaped  up,  pressed  down,  and  running 
over.  And  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  wonderful  in- 
crease, I  present  the  following  table,  showing  the  number 
of  subscribers  received,  new  and  renew^als,  on  each  day  in 
tlie  last  week  of  the  year,  for  the  last  four  years: 

For  the  tear  1871. 

I>ay9.  Subscribers. 

Monday.     Dec.  25, 41 

Tuesday,       „     26, 31 

Wednesday  „      27, 12 


PEKSONAL    EECOLLECTIONS.  373 

Thursday,     „      28, 89 

Friday,  „      29, 45 

Saturday,      „      30, 71 

Total  for  the  week 289 

For  the  year  1872. 
■  Days.  Subscribers. 

"Wednesday,  Dec.  25, 34 

Thursday,         „  26, 53 

Friday  „  27, 56 

Saturday,         „  28, 57 

Monday,  „  30, 85 

Tuesday,  „  31, TO 

Total  for  the  week '. 355 

For  the  year  1873. 

Days.  Subscribers. 

Thursday,     Dec.     25, 45 

Friday,  „         26, 206 

Saturday,       „         27, 33 

Monday,         „         29, 54 

Tuesday,         „         30, 222 

"Wednesday,   „         31, 85 

Total  for  the  week 645 

For  the  year  1874. 

Days.  Subscribers. 

Friday,      Dec.     25, 238 

Saturday,     „       26, 232 

Monday,       „       28, 262 

Tuesday,      „       29, 137 

Wednesday,,,       30, 170 

Thursday,     „       31, 173 

Total  for  the  week. . .  - 1,212 


374  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  for  three  years  prior  to  1874, 
the  total  number  of  subscribers  received  in  the  last  week 
for  three  years  is  1,289.  While  for  the  week  ending  De- 
cember 31,  1874,  I  have  1,212,  or  nearly  as  many  as  in  the 
three  preceding  years.  This  certainly  is  a  showing  which 
is  verv  cheerinir  to  me,  and  it  is  a  fair  index  to  the  future. 
Thus  the  Lord  leads  us  on  step  by  step,  and  when  he  sees, 
or  rather  when  he  discovers  to  ourselves  that  we  can  endure 
prosperity,  he  sends  it  us. 

When  I  was  bringing  the  first  issue  from  the  press,  a 
gentleman  asked  me  what  was  to  be  the  object  of  .the  paper. 
I  simply  told  him  I  did  not  know — God  would  open  a  way. 
As  I  advanced,  I  found  that  object  in  the  want  of  a  purely 
religious  paper  free  from  secular  affairs  and  advertisements, 
and  one  so  cheap  that  it  was  within  the  range  of  all. 
There  are  thousands  of  homes  in  our  land  in  which  there 
is  no  religious  reading,  in  which  the  children  are  growing 
up  not  only  ignorant  of  God  and  of  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity, but  who  are  supplying  themselves  with  hurtful 
reading.  The  object,  then,  of  the  Censer  was,  to  reach  the 
masses  with  a  paper  at  once  free  from  all  restraints,  and 
brimful  of  love  and  good  will,  and  though  that  object  has 
only  been  very  partially  attained,  faith  in  the  importance 
and  practicability  of  the  plan  is  not  diminished.  Though 
the  obstacles  are  strong  as  the  walls  of  Jericho,  yet,  like 
those  walls,  they  may  suddenly  crumble  and  leave  us  free 
access  to  the  people.  It  is  at  all  events  an  object  worth 
devoting  one's  life  to.  To  reach  every  street,  lane,  alley 
and  highway,  with  selections  of  the  best  literature  of  the 
day  as  well  as  the  news,  is  an  object  of  transcendent  im- 
portance. 

It  is  said  by  an  experienced  observer  that  there  are  three 
stages  in  the  career  of  every  newspaper:  "First,  noboby 
will  notice  it;  Second,  everybody  offers  all  kinds  of  ad- 
vice.    Third,  from  North,  South,  East  and  West,  people 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  375 

say  their  advice  made  the  paper."  I  do  not  know  about 
the  third  proposition,  but  I  do  know  about  the  first  and 
something  about  the  second.  But  in  my  darkest  hours,  I 
simply  place  my  trembling  hand  in  the  Father's  and  trust 
his  leadings,  and  to-day,  I. am  a  living  witness  that  he  has 
always  led  me  by  a  way  I  knew  not  out  to  victory. 

It  is  a  surprise  even  to  me  how  the  Censer  has  spread 
out  all  over  this  vast  county — from  Maine  to  California, 
from  Duluth  to  Florida.  At  this  writing,  the  paper  has  a 
circulation  of  11,650.  I  presume  that  fiv^e  readers  to  each 
copy  is  not  an  exaggerated  estimate,  fur  in  the  sparcely  set- 
tled regions — especially  in  the  West — the  same  copy  goes 
through  the  whole  neighborhood,  and  I  have  even  found  it 
so  in  other  places.  If  so,  the  Censer  weekly  has  58,250 
readers,  or  a  congregation  equal  to  that  of  5S  churches 
containing  1,000  hearers  each.  Who  shall  estimate  the 
importance  of  such  an  engine,  and  who  is  sufficient  for 
the  responsibility  of  conducting  it?  I  can  certainly  affirm 
no  one.  It  is  only  the  Spirit  of  God  vouchsafed  in  answer 
to  prayer  who  is  competent  to  guide  aright  such  a  power. 
Whilst  rightly  attributing  all  that  has  been  accomplished 
to  God,  it  is  proper,  gratefully  to  recognize  the  means  by 
which  he  has  worked.  Many  have  befriended  the  Censer 
in  its  struggles,  without  whose  aid  there  would,  humanly 
speaking,  be  no  Golden  Censer.  If  the  circulation  of  11,- 
650  copies  of  this  paper  reaches  really,  as  above  estimated, 
58,250  every  week,  what  human  imagination  can  take  in 
the  audience  that  is  thus  addressed.  It  is  an  audience 
enough  to  overwhelm  me  when  I  think  of  the  responsibil- 
ity. And  it  is  this  thought  that  often  makes  me  tremble 
when  I  weigh,  and  prayerfully  decide  what  shall,  and  what 
shall  not,  appear  in  the  Censer.  Truly,  if  there  is  any 
class  of  men  in  all  the  earth  who  need  the  sympathy  of 
the  community,  and  above  all  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  Al- 
mighty, they  are  the  men  who  stand  in  the  position  of  ed- 
itors and  publishers  of  newspapers. 


376  AUTOiJiOGRAPHY. 

But  what  has  the  Censer  accomplished?  Its  readers 
can  best  answer  that  question,  but  the  paper  has  been  bold, 
fearless  and  uncompromising  in  battling  with  intemper- 
ance and  the  fashionable  sins  of  the  day,  in  church  and  out 
uf  it.  It  has  earnestly  contended  for  a  pure  literature. 
There  can  be  no  way  to  arrest  the  bad  literature  of  this  day 
but  by  a  firm  and  unflinching  purpose  to  show  the  people 
the  sin  and  folly  of  undermining  reason  and  sound  judg- 
ment. There  is  no  way  to  battle  with  a  bad  newspaper 
but  by  supplying  a  good  one;  no  way  to  fight  a  bad  book 
but  by  extending  the  influence  of  a  Christian  book;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  in  this  struggle  God  will  be  stronger 
than  the  devil.  Xow  this  wave — this  tidal  wave  of  bad 
literature — is  covering  the  land.  When  Anthony  Comstock 
recently  was  throttled  by  a  literary  villain  in  Xewark,  New 
Jersey,  it  was  only  a  contest  between  the  bad  newspapers 
of  this  country  and  evil  incitement  and  that  which  is  good, 
and  when  Anthony  Comstock  throttled  the  villain  and 
thrust  him  in  jail,  by  the  strength  of  God  and  his  own 
riglit  arm,  he  did  what  I  hope  will  be  done  with  all  who 
have  anything  to  do  with  an  evil  and  corrupt  literature. 
It  is  high  time  that  Christian  men  should  rise  up,  and  as 
far  as  possible  organize  for  the  overthrow^  of  this  corrupt 
literature — a  literature  destroying  its  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  and  entering  many  of  the  homes  of  the  coun- 
try to  bring  nothing  but  ruin. 

Again,  the  Censer  aims  to  keep  the  thought  before  the 
people  that  religion  is  needed  every  day  in  the  week.  We 
often  only  read  distinctively  secular  papers  during  the 
week,  and  when  Sunday  comes  we  get  in  our  arm-chair 
and  put  on  our  slippers,  and  read  our  distinctively  relig- 
ious papers,  when  we  should  live  religion  every  day.  Up- 
on tliis  subject  Mr.  Talmage  forcibly  says,  ''llow  often  it 
is  that  we  see  men  sitting  in  church  on  Sunday  night, 
singing  'Rock  of  Ages,'  rolling  up  their  eyes,  and  looking 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  377 

pious.  Thej  leave  their  religion  in  the  pew,  and  say  to  it, 
'Good  bje,  religion;  I  will  be  back  next  Sunday.'  It 
seems  to  me  a  great  many  Cliristian  men  keej)  their  mem- 
orandum books  in  this  style:  Monday — Pay  the  insur- 
ance. Tuesday — Settle  that  note.  Wednesday — Go  to 
Boston.  Thursday — Come  back  from  Boston.  Friday — 
Settle  up  some  odds  and  ends.  Saturday — Pay  oif  the 
hands.  Sunday — (After  a  long  pause)  Beligion.  They 
make  it  out  after  a  great  deal  of  hard  study,  when  it  ought 
to  have  been  religion  from  the  top  of  the  page  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  all  the  way  through." 

So  liberal  were  my  receipts  that  I  was  enabled  prompt- 
ly to  meet  all  my  obligations,  and,  on  the  15th  of  January, 
1875,  I  was  entirely  out  of  debt,  and  had  seven  hundred 
dollars  over  and  above  all  liabilities,  and  all  the  above 
named  facilities  for  executing  my  work.  Added  to  this,  I 
had  some  five  hundred  dollars  worth  of  print  paper,  all 
paid  for,  in  store. 

Well,  my  cup  of  joy  was  full.  People  from  far  and  near 
came  to  look  upon  the  wonderful  work,  and  to  satisfy 
themselves  of  the  truthfulness  of  tlie  reports  that  had 
obtained  abroad  respecting  my  work  of  faith.  One  lady,  who 
has  relatives  near  this  city,  heard  of  the  Censer  way  down 
at  London,  Ont.,  and  when  she  came  to  visit  her  friends, 
she  came  to  Pockford  to  look  upon  that  marvelous  work. 
She  rode  up  and  down  the  street  several  times,  admiring 
the  office,  and  audibly  repeating  to  herself,  "The  Lord  bless 
the  dear  boy,"  and  then  she  called  on  me,  and  in  the 
warmest  words  possible  assured  me  the  Censer  was  doing 
a  great  work  in  Canada.  People  have  called  on  me  from 
Connecticut,  ]N"ew  York,  Massachusetts,  Ohio,  Michigan, 
Indiana,  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Maryland,  Minnesota, 
Wisconsin,  Kansas,  Florida,  California,  in  short,  almost 
every  State  in  the  Union,  wondering  how  I  could  build  up 
such  a  work  without  monev  or  even  advertisements  in  the 


378  AUTOBIOGHAPHY. 

paper,  and  at  a  nominal  subscription  price.  I  could  only 
reply  it  was  not  my  work — it  was  not  done  by  my  strength 
or  wisdom — the  Lord  was  in  it  all — to  him  be  all  the  glory. 

But  this  was  not  all.  There  is  no  stand-still  in  this 
work — no  resting  on  laurels.  All  my  friends  told  me  I 
must  now  rest  for  one  year.  Tlie  strain  upon  my  energies 
for  the  past  eight  months  had  been  quite  enough,  and  I 
must  now  take  my  ease.  I  had  an  office,  a  home,  and  a 
library,  and  all  the  appliances  and  facilities  for  doing  a 
great  work,  and  I  ought  to  be  satisfied.  But  this  restless, 
energetic  spirit  could  not  thus  idle  away  the  golden  mo- 
ments of  life — ''  better  to  wear  out  than  to  rust  out." 
Idleness  is  a  sin,  and  I  have  no  right  to  thus  commit  sin. 
Therefore,  I  told  my  readers  if  they  would  make  the  sub- 
scription list  ten  thousand,  I  would  enlarge  the  paper 
three-eighths  over  its  size  as  then  published.  The  ten 
thousand  have  been  secured,  and  over,  as  above  given.  Ac- 
cordingly the  paper  was  again  enlarged  at  the  opening  of 
volume  eighth. 

Looking  into  the  future  with  the  light  of  the  past,  the 
Censer  must  soon  become  one  of  the  greatest  agencies  in 
the  country  in  carrying  forward  the  cause  of  the  world's 
Kedeemer. 

I  have  often  heard  it  repeated  that  the  Censer  is  alto- 
gether too  sober-minded — it  never  indulged  in  levity — al- 
wavs  talked  rio^ht  to  the  hearts  of  men — it  was  so  earnest. 
Well,  I  admit  it.  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  otherwise 
than  sober,  faithful  and  earnest.  We  are  to  be  pure  in 
heart,  pure  in  speech,  and  pure  in  life.  The  Lord  of  life 
and  glory  has  pronounced  a  blessing  on  each.  '^Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God.''  These 
words  were  spoken  by  him  from  whose  lips  there  never  fell 
a  word  in  jest.  He  likewise  said,"  Bv  their  fruits  ve  shall 
know  them,"  for  "  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the 
mouth  speaketh."     If  then  we   see  persons  from   whose 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  379 

tongues  flow  the  corrupting  streams  of  trivial  language, 
we  are  safe  in  inferring  that  the  fountain — the  heart — is 
not  pure.  The  scriptures  tell  us  that "  the  tongue  is  a  fire, 
a  world  of  iniquity  and  unruly  evil,  full  of  deadly  poison. '^ 
And  Jesus,  knowing  frivolity  in  conversation  to  be  the 
leprosy  of  society,  adds,  "  But  I  say  unto  you,  for  every 
idle  word  that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  an  account 
thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment."  All  vain  talk — empty, 
unprofitable,  or  which  does  not  intend  to  instruct  or  edify, 
is  idle.  And  look  at  its  tendency:  It  destroys  our  peace, 
unfits  us  for  spiritual  devotion,  lowers  us  in  the  estimation 
of  others.  How  much  soever  persons  may  praise  one  for 
witticisms  or  buffoonery,  or  seem  pleased  at  the  time,  yet, 
in  their  sober  moments,  they  heartily  despise  such  folly. 
Again,  by  indulging  in  lightness  and  frivolity,  we  meas- 
urably destroy  our  influence  for  good.  "  Familiarity 
breeds  contempt."  How  exceedingly  incongruous  to  warn 
sinners  to  "flee  the  wrath  to  come,"  while  in  their  pres- 
ence we  indulge  in  levity,  or  trifling  conversation!  Who 
would  be  likely,  on  a  sick  or  dying  bed,  to  send  for  a  pun- 
ning minister  or  Christian  to  talk  or  pray  with  them?  The 
cry,  "  Let  us  be  social,"  is  sounded  in  our  ears  on  every 
street  corner,  but  let  us  be  very  careful,  lest,  in  an  un- 
garded  moment,  we  let  the  devil  enter  the  heart,  corrupt 
the  fountain  of  our  spiritual  life,  and  thus  poison  the 
speech  of  our  mouth.  The  pure  in  heart  shall  see  God. 
Can  we  look  down  into  the  well-spring  of  our  being  and 
see  "  holiness  to  the  Lord,"  inscribed  on  every  thought? 
If  we  must  give  an  account  at  the  last  day,  let  us  guard 
our  words,  "  having  our  conversation  as  becometh  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ,"  "  speaking  the  truth  in  love,"  "  that  we 
may  grow  up  into  him  in  all  things."  If  ever  the  arch- 
deceiver  is  transformed  into  an  angel  of  light,  it  is  when 
professing  Christians  talk  and  laugh  at  nonsense.  Noth- 
ing is  so  contrary  to  godliness  as  levity.     Every  word  we 


380  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Utter  influences,  for  good  or  evil,  some  precious,  immortal 
soul.  Like  us  the  pebble  drupt  into  the  ocean  agitates  the 
mightj  deep  from  shore  to  shore,  so  our  words,  though 
spoken  only  in  jest,  sink  into  some  human  heart,  and  often 
disturb  the  whole  life. 

Words  spring  from  thoughts,  and  tend  to  acts.  Yile 
words  lead  to  vile  deeds.  Thej  familiarize  the  mind  with 
vice,  and  break  down  the  barriers  of  purity.  Modesty  is  a 
r-afeguard  against  sin;  evil  words  effectually  destroy  it. 
Many  a  man  has  talked  himself  into  sensuality,  crime,  and 
ruin.  Intimacy  with  evil  in  thoughts  and  words  blinds  us 
to  the  vileness  of  iniquity,  and  prepares  us  for  sinful  in- 
dulgence. 

There  is  no  habit  more  ruinous  to  the  mind  and  heart 
than  that  of  continually  turning  into  a  jest  every  occurrence 
of  life.  The  mirth-loving  and  pleasure-seeking  may  wel- 
come such  a  companion  in  their  hours  of  gayety,  but  when 
the  clouds  of  sorrow  lower,  they  turn  with  loathing  from 
such  comforters.  They  are  as  useless  in  society  as  the  idle 
butterfly.  One  has  well  compared  such  triflers  to  a  sower 
who  scatters  only  flowers  as  he  passes  along.  "  His  course 
will  soon  be  marked  with  only  withered  beauty;  while  he 
who  sows  good  grain  in  the  furrows  of  life  will  leave  be- 
hind him  a  livin<T:  f^rowth  of  abidini^  usefulness." 

A  great  deal  of  so-called  wit  in  j^ublic  addresses,  even 
before  religipus  assemblies,  as  in  our  Institutes  and  Con- 
ventions, do  not  glorify  God.  It  is  not  of  a  kind  we  should 
remember  with  pleasure  with  eternity  face  to  face.  All 
irreverence  is  most  displeasing  to  him. 

If  '•  foolish  jesting  "  was  something  the  apostle  warned 
us  against,  wicked  jesting  would  certainly  come  still  more 
under  C(jndemnation.  It  is  the  earnest  speaker,  who  with 
forcible  illustrations,  comes  down  close  to  our  hearts,  and 
makes  us  feel,  what  we  remember  lonorest  and  with  feelin«:s 
of  deeper  interest. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  381 

The  lesson  is  obvious: — avoid  the  dialect  of  sin.  Keep 
the  mouth  as  with  a  bridle.  "  Let  no  corrupt  communica- 
tion proceed  out  of  your  mouth,  but  that  which  is  good  to 
the  use  of  edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace  to  the  liear- 
ers." 

Let  it  be  our  aim  rather  to  do  good  than  merely  to  amuse. 
Let  us  scatter  the  golden  grains  as  we  pass  along,  rather 
than  the  dying  flowers.  Then  may  we  look  down  with  joy 
from  the  sunlit  hills  of  life,  on  the  waving  harvest-fields, 
which  angel  hands  shall  gather  for  the  heavenly  granaries. 

We  have  influence.  Some  poor,  lost  sinner  may  be 
watching  our  actions — our  words — if  happily  they  may  see 
something  in  our  Christian  deportment  that  can  heal  an 
aching,  sin-sick  heart.  Oh,  the  solemn  responsibility  of 
life!  Our  Saviour,  as  if  pointing  directly  at  the  jester, 
says  it  were  better  for  such  an  one  to  have  a  mill-stone 
about  the  neck  and  drown  in  the  depths  of  the  sea,  than  to 
offend  one  of  these  "  little  ones."  Oh,  let  us,  my  dear 
reader,  be  pure  in  heart,  for  if  the  heart  is  pure  our  words 
will  also  be  pure,  and  the  "blessed"  will  be  ours,  as  Jesus 
hath  said,  and  -we  shall  see  God! 

But  the  most  eventful  year  of  my  life  was  drawing  to  a 
close.  Prosperity  had  been  poured  out  upon  me  like  water, 
and  with  a  cheerful,  grateful  heart  I  closed  volume  seventh 
of  the  Golden  Censer. 

The  eighth  volume  was  opened  with  the  paper  enlarged 
as  above  stated,  and  an  entire  new  outfit  of  type  and  ma- 
terials at  a  great  expense.  I  give  a  brief  extract  from  the 
editorial  in  the  first  issue  of  volume  eighth,  which  is  as 
follows : 

•'  With  this  issue  the  Golden  Censer  enters  upon  its 
eighth  year.  As  we  look  over  the  history  of  this  paper — 
first  a  small  semi-monthly,  then  a  weekly,  then  enlarged,  and 
now  enlarged  again  with  an  entire  new  outfit,  it  is  a  mat- 
ter of  wonder  as  we  reflect  on  the  unparalleled  prosperity. 


3S2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

steady  progress,  and  increased  usefulness,  and  it  is  a  cause  of 
lasting  gratitude  to  Almiglitj  God  in  permitting  so  humble 
and  unpretending  an  agency  as  your  unworthy,  but  ever 
faithful  editor  to  demonstrate  to  the  religious  world  that 
a  relig^ious  paper  can^  and  ought  to  be  published  without 
advertiseinents  at  half  the  subscription  price  usually  asked 
for  the  religious  periodicals.  Xow,  while  we  have  proved 
the  above  with  a  seven  years'  actual  trial  and  increased 
prosperity,  we  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  reflecting  on 
our  worthy  cotemporaries  who  disagree  with  us  upon  this 
vital  point.  God  bless  them,  and  may  we  all  work  for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souls.  As  you  look  over 
the  enlarged  Censer  with  its  clear  beautiful  print,  doubt- 
less its  first  readers  can  see  a  great  advance  in  its  march 
onward  in  seven  years  of  its  existence. 

"As  the  years  come  and  go — and  they  come  and  go,  oh! 
so  rapidly — we  feel  more  and  more  our  own  weakness,  and 
helplessness,  and  ignorance,  and  this  drives  us  to  the  source 
of  all  wisdom.  As  we  write  we  can  sincerely  say,  it  is  not 
the  consideration  of  wealth  that  -prompts  us  to  labor  and 
toil  for  the  good  of  our  fellows.  We  are  willing  at  any 
time  to  exchange  the  c7'oss  for  the  croivn^  but  until  it  shall 
please  God  to  close  up  our  brief  span,  feeble  efforts  and 
misgiving  life,  we  shall  bend  our  energies  to  the  task  be- 
fore us.  We  have  consecrated  all  to  our  heavenly  Master, 
and  whether  prosperity  or  adversity  shall  come  upon  us  in 
the  future,  we  shall  glory  only  in  the  ci'oss. 

"Hitherto  we  have  been  open  and  honest  with  the  reader 
— it  is  always  best  to  be  honest — and  have  stoutly  refused 
to  trick  them  into  subscribing  for  the  Censer  by  offering 
them  worthless  daubs  under  the  name  "  chromo,"  or  by 
giving  them  sewing  machines  or  dictionaries  as  premiums, 
— these  things  are  all  well  and  proper  in  their  place, — but 
come  to  the  reader  with  a  paper  whose  subscription  price 
is  placed  within   the  reach  of  all,  and  which  leaves  but  a 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  383 

small  profit,  and  saj  to  the  reader,  if  you.  believe  in  honest 
toil  aud  self-sacrificing  efforts  on  thepart  of  the  publisher, 
subscribe  and  encourage  the  editor;  if  not,  then  subscribe 
for  your  chromo,  sewing-machine  and  dictionar}^  paper, 
and  pay  your  two  prices  fpr  about  half  as  much  reading  as 
is  contained  in  the  Censer.  We  know  it  pays  to  be  faith- 
ful to  the  public  in  these  particulars.  The  people  have 
been  humbugged  enough  for  some  one  to  show  up  this 
villainous  business. 

"In  our  efforts  to  combat  with  the  various  forms  of  evil,  we 
shall  be  very  mild  but  firm.  Some  want  us  to  "  pitch  in 
and  clean  out"  whatever  may  be  offensive  to  them.  This 
is  not  the  spirit  which  will  win  in  the  end.  The  gospel  of 
Christ  is  a  gospel  of  love  and  peace.  By  kindness  we  are 
to  win  the  erring  from  the  paths  of  sin.  If  we  fail  in  this 
we  defeat  the  end  we  wish  to  accomplish.  More  than  ever 
are  we  persuaded  that  if  a  man  is  in  trouble  we  can  best 
make  him  admire  the  "  mind  that  is  in  us"  by  giving  to 
him,  and  with  a  heart  of  real  desire  to  do  him  good,  help 
him  onto  his  feet  and  towards  the  cross  and  the  Redeemer 
aud  heaven.  We  hate  sin,  but  pity  the  victim.  We  can 
not  admire  the  evil  actions  of  men,  but  love  their  souls. 
If  we  say  pretty  severe  things  against  sin,  do  not  blame  us. 
We  try  to  be  your  friend.  At  best  we  can  but  provoke  you 
to  examine  whereof  we  speak  and  see  if  the  things  spoken 
of  are  right  or  wrong.  This  is  fair.  As  a  friend  we  sliall 
never  flatter  sin,  or  think  any  one  the  more  virtuous  be- 
cause indulging  in  it." 

But  this  brings  the  Tiarrative  of  my  life  down  as  far  as 
contemplated  in  this  sketch.  Of  course  my  life  work  is 
given  to  the  cause  so  dear  to  my  heart,  and  which  God  has 
placed  upon  me.  As  already  given,  the  present  circulation 
of  the  paper  is  eleven  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty. 
JS^ow  the  thought  that  suggests  itself  to  my  mind  is.  Has 
the  Censer  reached  its  highest  point  of  usefulness?    Shall 


3S4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

it  stand  at  a  dead  water  level?  To  this  the  answer  comes 
as  the  sonnd  of  many  waters,  "  Ko."  There  are  vet  grander 
possibilities  before  it.  Time  will  disclose  its  history,  and 
unfold  its  destiny. 

"WHiat  I  have  accomplished,  and  how  I  have  accomplished 
it,  has  been  faithfnlly  set  forth  in  these  pages.  I  am  yet  in 
my  early  manhood.  Unmanly  speaking,  there  are  yet  twen- 
ty,  possibly  thirty,  years  of  usefulness  before  me.  That 
they  will  be  marked  with  as  many  struggles,  can  hardly  be 
expected,  and  I  most  sincerely  hope  that  I  may  be  spared 
similar  struggles. 

In  a  financial  point  of  view — ^estimated  by  dollars  and 
cents — the  building,  the  ground  on  which  it  stands,  and  the 
type  and  material  requisite  to  fjicilitate  the  publishing  of 
the  Censer,  I  consider  worth  about  twelve  thousand  dol- 
lars. It  cost  me  more  than  that,  but  I  prefer  to  fix  the 
figure  below  rather  than  above  cost.  I  do  not  speak  of 
this  to  boast  how  much  I  am  worth  or  that  I  earned  it  with 
my  hands,  for  it  is  only  lent  to  me  of  the  Lord,  and  he 
could  take  it  from  me  much  quicker  than  he  has  given  it 
to  me.  But  I  give  this  information  to  the  reader  because 
I  have  nothing  to  conceal,  and  to  inspire  the  young  with 
noble  courage  and  brave  actions  in  a  right  cause,  and  also 
to  publish  to  the  world  that  the  Golden  Censer,  though 
started  by  a  poor  unpretending  and  unassuming  college 
boy  seven  years  ago,  and  without  money,  credit,  friends  or 
even  encouragement,  and  despite  the  hatred  and  bitter 
opposition,  and  mountains  of  discouragements,  succeeded 
in  carrying  forward  the  paper  from  nothing  to  a  circula- 
tion of  nearly  twelve  thousand  and  from  poverty  has 
accumulated  a  competency,  has  acquired  surroundings 
valued  at  from  $12,000  to  $15,000.  And  all  this  has  been 
accomplished  without  a  single  advertisement  in  the  paper, 
and  with  a  subscription  price  which  even  my  enemies  ad- 
mit as  unprecedentedly  low. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  38o 

"While  the  Censer  is  the  only  pa2)er  in  the  City  of  Rock- 
ford  which  owns  the  building  in  which  it  is  published,  it 
has  earned  it  by  honest  toil.  Within  the  time  since  the 
Censer  has  had  an  existence  I  have  seen  the  rise  and  fall 
of  many  papers,  both  religious  and  secular,  papers  started 
w^ith  $30,000  and  $50,000  capital  and  three  or  four  pages  of 
advertisements,  and  a  subscription  double  and  treble  that 
of  the  Censer.  One  large  metropolitan  religious  paper 
not  far  from  Rockford,  Us  readers  will  remember,  called 
the  Censer  the  muslirooin  of  the  West,  and,  though  this 
same  great  paper  has  for  seven  years  tried  to  crush  the 
mushroom,  yet  it  has  not  succeeded,  and  God  being  my 
helper  it  will  never  succeed.  And  what  is  a  singular  fact, 
that  paper,  seven  years  ago  had  17,000  subscribers;  now  it 
has  13,000.  At  that  time  the  Censer  had  none;  now  it  has 
nearlv  12.000.  Bv  the  same  ratio,  where  will  the  inush- 
room  stand  seven  years  hence?  If  God  honors  let  men  de- 
spise. 

Other  papers  I  know  which  do  not  pay  publishing  ex- 
penses, and  are  year  by  year  running  deeper  into  debt, 
while  the  Censer,  without  making  any  metropolitan  pre- 
tentions, has  paid  its  way. 

But  I  take  no  glory  to  myself.  I  am  just  as  dependent 
upon  God  in  this  day  of  prosperity  as  I  was  in  the  dark 
days  of  adversity  and  disaster. 

Aside  from  the  material  evidences  of  God's  goodness, 
the  Censer  has  accomplished  a  work  which  eternity  only 
can  disclose.  And  this,  more  than  anything  else,  has  cheer- 
ed me  in  my  hours  of  depression  and  discouragement . 

But  why  have  I  written  all  this?  Simply  to  set  before 
my  readers  the  fact  that  God  cares  for  us,  and  hears  and 
answers  our  prayer,  and  that  nothing  can  be  more  pleasing 
in  his  sight  than  a  life  of  simple  faith  and  trust. 

From  this   standpoint,  though  I  know  not   the  future, 
my  prospect  for  increased   usefulness   is  very  promising. 
25 


3S6  AUTOBIOGRAl'HY. 

But  1  will  trust  in  the  LtH-d,  though  I  should  be  called  to 
deeper  afflictions  than  I  have  recorded  in  this  narrative, 
for  it  is  good  always  to  trust  in  God. 

To  every  yjung  man  and  woman  I  would  say,  seek  none 
other  employment  but  what  you  can  ask  the  blessing  of 
God  upon.  And  with  faithful  toil,  continued  persever- 
ance in  untoward  circumstances,  earnest  devotion  to  God 
and  vour  calling,  honest  and  open  hearted  to  all  men,  and 
with  form  erect  and  face  set  toward  heaven,  you  ^vill,  yea, 
you  must,  succeed.  God  bless  the  young  people!  I  have  a 
lively  sympathy  for  them,  for  I  have  been  down  in  the 
dark  stream,  and  hav^e  struggled  wdth  adversity,  as  I  can 
but  hope  and  pray  none  of  my  readers  may  ever  be  called 
upon  to  undergo.  But  in  it  all,  I  bless  God  for  the  fur- 
nace of  affliction. 

I  find,  as  I  come  in  contact  wdth  young  people  that 
many  care  little  for  the  solid  works,  such  as  philosophy, 
astronomy,  history  and  chemistry,  and  that  class  of  books 
which  is  likely  to  call  out  their  mental  faculties.  Said  a 
gentleman  of  culture  in  my  hearing  recently,  "  A  friend 
of  mine  is  the  owner  of  a  large  telescope,  and  being  benev- 
olent, ho  invited  all  the  young  people  to  his  observatory  to 
*tudy  the  siderial  heavens.  But,  strange  to  say,  very  few 
cared  to  come,  as  they  had  no  taste  for  such  stndy— prefer- 
ring their  evening  parties  and  their  trashy  novels."  Ah,  my 
young  friends  in  the  neglect  of  mind  culture,  you  lose 
much  in  time,  and  more  in  eternity.  For  in  the  study  of  the 
works  indicated  above,  you  are  not  only  enabled  to  under- 
stand the  operations  and  the  causes  which  produce  certain 
effects  in  the  mechanic  arts,  but  it  will  make  you  more  in- 
telligent and  skillful  in  whatever  occupation  you  may 
choose  for  life.  Even  the  wayside  flower  has  added  charms 
to  the  botanist.  Notice  with  what  pleasure  do  intelligent 
and  cultivated  minds  contemplate  the  works  of  nature,  the 
/irts  and  sciences  found   in    the   outer  world.     We  search 


PEESONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  387 

.Tith  eageruess  into  all  the  mysteries  of  botany  and  zoology, 
cliemistry  and  geology,  physiology  and  astronomy,  and 
many  other  useful  sciences.  We  number  and  name  the 
difterent  species  of  plants,  analyze  the  vegetation  of  flowers 
and  trees,  watch  the  tender  grass  starting  in  the  spring, 
gaze  through  the  microscope  at  the  full-blown  flowers,  not- 
ing their  varied,  beautiful,  artistic  tints  and  hues.  We 
name  the  leaves  and  mark  their  perfect  formations,  and 
wonder  how  such  varied,  charming  beauties  can  spring 
forth  from  the  earth  through  the  combined  influence  and 
action  of  hydrogen  and  soil,  the  atmosphere  and  rays  of 
the  sun,  day  and  night,  heat  and  cold,  rest  and  action,  na- 
ture and  nature's  God.  We  wonder  that  plants  and  flow- 
ers can  subsist  on  that  which  is  a  deadly  poison  to  man, 
and  that  we  can  breathe  and  thrive  on  that  which  is  poison 
to  them.  They  die,  and  we  flourish  by  their  death.  We 
die,  and  they  in  turn  feast,  grow  and  thrive  by  uur  death. 
By  the  aid  of  geology  we  search  for  the  hidden  wonders 
and  treasures  of  the  earth,  and  find  that  two- thirds  of  its 
surface  is  composed  of  fossilified  rocks,  the  remains  of 
plants  and  animals  in  a  petrified  state;  that  shells  not 
larcrer  than  a  o-rain  of  sand  form  entire  mountains;  that 
there  are  deep  beds  composed  of  shells  so  small  that  forty 
millions  are  required  to  make  a  cubic  inch!  We  then  ana- 
lyze the  sixty-one  distinct  elements  of  which  the  earth  is 
composed,  noting  the  changes  produced  by  time,  the  atmos- 
phere, storms  and  fluids;  penetrate  the  interior  of  the 
earth,  and  see  of  what  it  is  composed;  and  name  and  clas- 
sify each  soil,  mineral  or  strata  of  rocks.  We  then  trav- 
erse the  universe,  noting  the  variableness  of  the  earth's 
surface — springs  and  brooks,  creeks  and  rivers,  ponds  and 
lakes,  plains  and  valleys,  hills  and  mountains,  seas  and 
oceans.  We  climb  to  the  top  of  Etna,  and  pause  upon  its 
summit,  and  wonder  if  we  can  not  penetrate  its  depth  and 
discover   the  causes  of  its   tremulous   voice,  nervousness, 


38S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sleepless  nights,  and  its  overwlielming  fury,  when  it  speal^ 
in  thunder  tones,  darkening  the  lieavens  with  smoke  an 
ashes,  sending  forth  rivers  of  boiling  lava,  submergin 
thousands  of  people,  towns  and  cities,  and  building  up  vaj 
mountains  as  lasting  monuments  of  its  power. 

We  next  examine  the  water  with  the  microscope  and  fin 
it  teeming  with  life  and  action;  philosophize  upon  tli 
mists  and  tides,  calms  and  currents  of  the  ocean;  go  dow 
into  its  depths,  bridle  the  whale,  traverse  the  chambers  < 
the  deep,  name  and  classify  the  shells  and  fishes,  gaze  upo 
the  treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  diamonds  and  jewels,  ship 
mighty  armaments,  and  the  millions  of  men  and  wome 
who  have  gone  there  to  sleep  until  the  resurrection  mori 

"We  then  harness  steam,  hitch  it  to  the  engine  and  dri\ 
it  with  fury  over  continents  and  oceans,  opening  all  tl 
inhabitable  portions  of  the  universe  to  commerce,  missioi 
aries  and  education.  Talk  to  the  world  through  the  nv 
dium  of  the  telegraph,  almost  annihilating  time  and  spac 
We  compute  the  seconds  of  time  and  estimate  the  millioi 
who  have  lived  since  the  morning  of  creation.  Name  tl 
insects  and  animals,  and  admire  the  infinite  variety  of  bird 
We  develop  the  size  and  strength  of  the  bones  and  ran 
cles,  tissues  and  tendons,  nerves  and  brain  of  man.  ^T 
try  our  artistic  skill,  and  write  the  Declaration  of  Indi 
pendence  and  the  Lord's  prayer  within  the  circumfereiK 
of  half  a  dime;  build  the  telescope  with  which  we  pern 
trate  the  boundless  regions  of  the  solar  system,  count  ti 
stars,  name  the  satellites,  worlds  and  suns  whirling  in  the 
orbits  with  a  speed  greater  than  that  of  sound  or  the  fligl 
of  a  cannon  ball;  estimate  their  dimensions,  their  velocit 
their  daily  and  annual  revolutions,  their  inclination  to  an 
distance  from  the  sun.  We  ascertain  the  speed  ofligl 
and  sound,  the  weight  and  density  of  water  and  the  atmo 
phere,  and  search  for  inhabitants  in  the  planets.  Oi 
minds  long  to  discover  heaven  and  the  angels,  Grod  and  a 
lii-  mighty  works. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  389 

But  why  specify  the  many  objects  whicli  are  replete  witli 
interest,  and  more  startling  and  astonishing  than  the  con- 
tents of  wortliless  books  piled  mountain  high.  If  our 
young  people  were  to  turn  their  minds  to  such  studies, 
there  would  be  no  telling  what  the  next  generation  might 
not  accomplish. 

A  man  came  into  my  office  one  day  full  of  bitterness 
ao^ainst  his  neighbors,  saying  they  had  overreached  and 
cheated  him,  and  had  slandered  his  character.  I  listened 
to  his  story  patiently  for  an  hour  or  more.  I  was  crowded 
with  work  and  pressing  duties  called  me  elsewhere.  So  I 
intimated  to  him  several  times  that  time  was  precious. 
But  he  had  his  Bible  with  him  with  leaves  turned  down  at 
texts  which  indicated,  as  he  thought,  the  characters  and 
doom  of  his  neighbors  unless  they  repented.  Upon  my 
positive  refusal  to  longer  listen  to  him,  he  abruptly  arose 
from  his  chair,  muttering  that  I  was  in  league  with  his  en- 
emies, and  that  all  the  world  was  against  him.  Poor  fel- 
low, I  felt  sorry  for  him,  for  I  knew  his  heart  was  not  right 
nor  was  he  the  possessor  of  that  crowning  virtue  which  the 
apostle  places  at  the  head — or  rather  the  end — -of  a  long  list. 
With  extended  observation  of  men  and  things,  and  with 
considerable  experience,  I  am  compelled  to  say  that  there 
is  no  grace  in  the  Christian  character  that  shines  more 
highly  than  charity.  There  is  so  much  of  harshness  and 
cruelty  in  the  world  that  when  a  man  exercises  this  grace 
he  is  immediately  set  down  as  weak  and  compromising. 
We  demand  absolute  perfection  in  others,  while  our  own 
lives  are  full  of  imperfections.  We  are  ever  on  the  judg- 
ment-seat, judging  everybody  but  ourselves.  We  pass 
sentence  against  a  man  not  only  for  what  he  says  and 
does,  but  we  presume  to  understand  his  motives.  Kow  if 
the  Master  were  here  he  would  say,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be 
not  judged;  for  with  what  judgment  ye  judge,  ye  shall  be 
judged:  and  with  what  measure  ye  mete,  it  shall  be  meas- 


P.OO  AUTOBTOORAPHT. 

iired  to  von  again/'  Bnt  men  are  rasli  and  hasty;  instead 
of  trying  to  lielp  tlic  erring,  or  those  whom  they  regard  as 
errino",  they  liasten  to  pass  sentence  against  them.  Instead 
of  trving  to  shield  tliem  from  the  storm,  they  seek  to  take 
awav  wliatever  slielter  tliey  may  have.  If  Peter  were  here 
he  wonUl  say  to  all  Christians,  "Above  all  things  have  fre- 
quent charity  among  yourselves;  for  charity  shall  cover 
the  multitude  of  sins.''  Dr.  Clark,  in  commenting  upon 
this  passage,  says,  "A  loving  disposition  leads  us  to  pass 
by  the  faults  of  others,  to  forgive  offenses  against  ourselves, 
and  to  excuse  and  lessen,  as  far  as  consistent  with  truth, 
the  transijressions  of  men." 

Christian  charity  will  prompt  the  soul  to  put  the  most 
favorable  construction  on  the  acts  of  others.  Because  oth- 
ers cannot  see,  and  do  not  act  as  we  act,  we  are  not  to  con- 
demn them  for  unintentional  wrong.  When  a  brother 
commits  an  impropriety,  or  even  an  immorality,  we  are 
not  at  once  to  raise  the  cry  of  hypocrite.  If  Paul  were 
here  he  would  sav,  "  Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth 
take  heed,  lest  he  fall."  "For  my  own  part,"  sajs  John 
Newton,  "  if  my  pockets  were  full  of  stones  I  have  no  right 
to  throw  one  at  the  greatest  backslider  upon  earth.  I 
have  either  done  as  bad  or  worse  than  he,  or  I  certainlv 
should  if  the  Lord  had  left  me  a  little  to  myself."  As  a 
religious  duty,  we  ought  to  search  our  pockets  to  see  how 
many  stones  we  have  there;  and  after  we  have  searched 
our  pockets  then  we  should  search  our  hearts  and  see  if  the 
spirit  of  fervent  charity  dwell  there. 

An  incident  is  recorded  in  the  history  of  the  Macedonian 
emperor,  that  might  be  studied  with  profit  by  many  a 
Oliristian.  A  painter  was  employed  to  furnish  a  sketch  of 
the  monarch.  The  emperor,  in  one  of  his  battles,  had  been 
struck  with  a  sword  upon  his  forehead,  which  left  a  very 
large  scar.  The  painter,  who  wished  to  make  the  monarch 
appear  to  the  best  advantage,  drew  the  sketch  so  as  to  rep- 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  391 

resent  him  leaning  on  his  elbow,  with  his  finger  crossing 
the  scar.  "  Let  ns  pnt  tlie  finger  of  charity  upon  the  scar 
of  the  Christian  as  we  look  at  him,  whatever  it  may  be, — 
the  finger  of  a  tender  and  forbearing  charity, — and  see,  in 
spite  of  it,  the  image  of  Christ  notwithstanding."  But 
how  many  there  are  who,  in  sketching  Christian  character, 
will  not  only  expose  every  scar  they  can,  but  make  them 
deeper  and  longer!  We  are  constantly  in  need  of  charity, 
and  desire  others  to  extend  it  to  us;  but  how  slow  we  are 
in  extending  it  to  others! 

The  spirit  of  Christian  charity  is  so  poorly  understood 
that  when  a  man  is  found  sympathizing  with  the  erring, 
he  is  at  once  suspected  of  being  in  league  with  them. 
The  world  is  full  of  men  who  would  make  stern  judge?, 
but  not  many  who  would  make  good  mediators.  Lord 
Bacon  savs  that  the  ancient  councils  and  svnods,  when 
they  deprived  a  misister  of  his  office,  never  recorded  the 
ofi'ense,  but  buried  it  in  perpetual  silence.  Call. you  that 
Christian  charity?  If  it  is,  then  where  shall  we  find  it  in 
this  day?  Christian  charity,  while  it  does  not  wink  at  sin 
nor  strike  hands  with  the  sinner,  makes  allowances  for  the 
weakness  of  human  nature,  and  stands  ready  to  put  the 
most  favorable  construction  on  the  acts  of  those  who  are 
tempted  to  do  wrong. 

There  is  evidently  too  much  difierence  made  between  a 
living  man  and  a  man  when  he  is  dead.  While  living,  he 
is  made  the  subjeet  of  severe  criticism;  but  as  soon  as  he 
is  dead,  almost  everybody  is  ready  to  go  and  cover  his 
grave  with  the  mantle  of  charity.  Why  is  this?  Is  a  dead 
.man  better  than  a  living  one?  Will  the  exercise  of  charity 
now  that  he  is  dead  do  him  more  good  than  if  he  were 
living?  The  difference,  I  opine,  is  this:  It  is  a  solemn 
thing  to  talk  about  the  dead.  But  is  it,  in  reality,  any 
more  solemn  than  to  talk  about  the  living?  What  we  say 
and  think  of  men  while  living  we  ought   to  be   willing  to 


392  AUTOBIOGKArilY. 

say  about  tliein  when  tliey  are  dead;  for  death  has  not 
made  them  better  or  worse.  I  liave  known  men  against 
wli(»m  many  hard  things  were  said  while  living.  They 
were  suspected  of  many  evil  things.  But  tlie  moment 
they  died,  every  lip  was  sealed,  except  to  speak  of  their 
^ood  qualities.  If  Peter  were  among  the  disciples  to-day 
he  would  stand  but  a  pour  chance;  for  he  committed  a 
most  terrible  blunder.  But  the  Master  had  not  vet  as- 
cended  on  high,  and  Peter  was  saved  from  utter  ruin.  If 
he  had  been  left  wholly  to  his  brethren  they  might  have 
cast  him  entirely  away;  but  Jesus  showed  them  that  al- 
though Peter  had  acted  badly,  he  was  still  a  better  man 
than  his  acts  would  seem  to  indicate.  He  had  not  lost  all 
confidence  in  him,  else  he  would  not  have  committed  to 
him  such  important  trust — "Peter,  feed  my  sheep.'' 

One  of  Mr.  Whitefield's  admirers,  who  was  bitterly  op- 
})Osed  to  Mr.  Wesley,  met  him  one  day  and  said,  "  Mr. 
Whitefield,  do  you  think  we  shall  see  John  Wesley  in 
heaven?"  Mr.  Whitefield  replied,  "You  ask  me  whether 
we — that  is,  you  and  I — shall  see  Mr.  Wesley  in  heaven. 
Certainly  not."  "I  thought  you  would  say  so,"  said  his 
admirer;  "thank  you  sir."  "  But  stop,  my  friend,"  said 
Mr.  Whitefield,  "  and  hear  all  I  have  to  say  about  it.  John 
Wesley  will  be  so  near  the  throne,  and  you  and  I  so  far 
off,  that  we  cannot  expect  to  see  him."  The  difference  be- 
tween these  two  men  was  simply  this:  Mr.  Whitefield  had 
Christian  charity,  and  his  friend  had  not.  The  want  of 
Christian  charity  among  those  who  profess  to  be  the  dis- 
ciples of  Christ  has  no  doubt  driven  some  into  skepticism. 
Lord  Byron  says:  "  I  date  my  first  impressions  against  re- 
ligion from  having  witnessed  how  little  its  votaries  were 
actuated  by  true  Christian  charity." 

But  we  are  all  passing  along  life's  journey,  and  we  go  over 
the  road  but  once:  liow  important  that  we  go  right.  This 
being  so,  if  therefore,  there  be  any  kindness   I  can   show, 


PERSONAL    KECOLLECTIONS.  393 

or  anything  I  can  do  for  my  fellowmen,  let  me  do  it  now. 
Let  me  not  neglect  or  defer  it,  for  I  shall  not  pass  this 
way  again. 

And  why  not  let  the  whole  celestial  way  be  lighted  up 
with  that  same  light  which  shone  so  brightly  there  when 
first  we  felt  the  peace  of  heaven  in  our  souls?  You  know 
how  it  may  be  with  you.  The  lamented  Dr.  James  Ham- 
ilton once  gave  utterance  to  this  beautiful  thought:  Sup 
pose  that  every  one  were  to  mark  in  golden  letters  the 
text  which  has  been  the  means  of  saving  his  soul.  The 
apostle  Paul  would  mark  the  words,  "Saul,  Saul,  why  per- 
secutest  thou  me?"  for  it  was  these  words,  spoken  by  Jesus 
from  the  dazzling  light,  that  made  him  a  new  creature. 
In  the  Bible  of  the  Macedonian  jailor,  the  letters  would  be 
found  at  Actsxvi:  31:  "Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved;"  for  embracing  this  simple  offer 
he  rejoiced,  believing  in  God,  with  all  his  house.  Martin 
Luther  would  print  the  text,  "  The  just  shall  live  by  faith," 
in  gold:  for  that  text,  spoken  by  the  gentle  lips  of  the  vi- 
car general,  guided  him  to  peace;  and  the  young  monk  of 
Erfurth,  reduced  by  fasts  and  tears  and  struggles  to  the 
s^erge  of  the  grave,  found  rest  in  the  wounds  of  Jesus.  In 
the  Bible  of  Bunyan,  the  mark  would  be  found  at  "  Yet 
there  is  room."  It  was  through  the  lattice  of  these  words 
that  he  first  saw  the  cross,  and  he  thought  God  had  put 
them  into  the  Bible  to  meet  his  special  case.  Thus  the 
words  of  life  have  unfolded  to  us  the  mighty  power  of  God 
to  speak  peace  to  the  troubled  soul.  But,  by  and  by,  it 
will  be  granted  to  the  pure  in  heart  to  see  God.  Even 
now  they  see  his  beauty  reflected  in  the  sea  and  sky.  They 
see  his  majesty  in  the  firmament.  They  see  his  power  in 
the  measureless  forces  ever  at  work  around  them,  in  the 
winds,  the  waves,  the  flowers  and  trees,  in  things  animate 
and  inanimate,  which  hide  God  from  the  carnal  mind,  but 
disclose  his  presence   to   those  that  love  him.     They  see 


394  AUTOBIOGRAI'HY. 

God  in  his  providence.  He  stands  revealed  to  them  in  the 
joys  which  brighten  their  pathway,  and  in  the  sorrows  by 
which  they  are  chastened.  They  see  God  in  all  the  ordi- 
nances of  his  house.  In  the  hymns  of  praise,  the  public 
prayers,  the  preaclied  word,  the  sacraments.  He  manifests 
himself  nnto  them  as  he  does  not  unto  the  world. 

In  this  world,  the  veil  of  the  flesh  shuts  out  the  bright- 
est beams  of  his  glory — in  the  heavenly  world,  with  un- 
veiled faces,  they  shall  stand  in  his  presence  and  behold 
the  King  in  his  beauty.  They  shall  look  upon  him, 
and  mind  and  heart  shall  feed  upon  the  grace,  and  the 
grandeur  and  the  glory  of  his  countenance,  and  the  soul 
shall  drink  in  the  rapturous  delight  of  tlie  vision,  and  be 
transformed  into  the  imao^e  of  the  orlorv  it  beholds. 

It  maj'  not  be  out  of  place,  before  I  lay  down  my  pen,  to 
answer,  by  anticipation,  objections  that  may  arise  in  the 
mind  of  the  young  reader  who  may  read  these  pages.  I 
have  received  many  letters  of  which  the  following  is  only 
a  sample: 

Toledo,  Ohio,  July  2,  1875. 
Ed.  Golden  Censer: — I  hardly  know  whether  I  am 
doing  right  in  taking  the  liberty  of  addressing  this  letter 
to  you,  but  if  I  am  taking  too  much  libertv  I  hope  you 
will  be  so  kind  as  to  excuse  me.  I  have  read  with  interest 
the  closing  chapters  of  your  sketch,  giving  an  account  of 
the  trials  and  difficulties  which  you  passed  through. 
Judging  from  the  conclusion  which  you  gave  in  your  last 
chapter,  I  should  think  you  attributed  all  your  success  to 
God  in  answer  to  your  many  prayers,  or  in  other  words, 
you  have  prayed  that  God  would  give  you  success  in  busi- 
ness, and  you  have  had  success  and  declare  that  God  has 
answered  your  prayer.  Now,  I  do  not  deny  the  virtue  of 
prayer,  yea,  I  believe  in  the  power  of  prayer,  l^it  I  want 
to  aek,  does  God  answer  all  such  prayers?      S.  W.  McN. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  305 

The  editor's  heart  beats  warmly  for  the  striiororlinor  everv- 
where.  It  is  with  deepest  sympathy  for  the  young  that  T 
pen  these  few  lines.  I  haye,  before  now,  gone  five  blocks 
out  of  my  way  to  make  a  purchase  of  some  young  man 
just  starting  in  business.  Oh,  ye  fathers  and  mothers,  if 
you  want  to  cheer,  strengthen,  and  ennoble  the  young  men 
and  young  women,  show  to  them  by  precept  and  example 
that  you  have  a  "  God  bless  you  "  for  them.  I  have  seen 
the  time  when  those  three  words  have  removed  mountains 
of  doubts,  fears,  and  despondencies.  God  bless  our 
young  men  and  women,  and  if  a  kindly  word  from  me 
shall  encourao^e,  cheer,  or  strenc^then  them  to  nobly  dare 
and  do,  to  stand  up  under  dark  clouds,  they  sliall  have  it. 

I  firmly  believe  all  1  have  written  in  regard  to  answered 
prayer.  It  is  impossible  to  exhaust,  or  even  do  justice  to 
this  subject  in  the  brief  space  left  me.  The  Bible  is  full 
of  recorded  answers  to  prayer.  T  have  already  treated  upon 
the  subject,  and  hence  will  not  recur  to  it  here.  But  let 
me  say  this:  Expect  to  suffer,  expect  disappointments.  It 
is  only  then  you  put  yourself  in  the  condition  to  receive 
help  from  God.  One  of  the  hardest  lessons  I  had  to  learn 
when  I  commenced  going  to  school  was  that  I  was  a  grown 
up  fool.  When  I  had  mastered  that  lesson,  then  I  was 
prepared  to  learn  from  any  event  in  life,  from  the  prattling 
child  to  the  sober,  thinking  philosopher.  I  also  discoyer 
one  great  misapprehension  in  many  good  people,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  young  man  above,  namely:  the  too-anxious 
looking  for  results.  The  youth  read  the  editor's  exper- 
ience, and  at  once  desired  the  results — not  the  e^fperience 
— of  a  thirty-three  years'  life  of  suffering,  forgetting  that 
the  editor  endured  privations  for  fifteen  years,  studied  hard 
for  seven  years,  and  then  toiled  amid  mountains  of  dis- 
couragements for  seven  years  more  before  success  followed. 
The  question  I  put  to  every  young  man  is:  Are  you  will- 
ing to  pay  the  price  of  success?     If  so,  you  shall  have  it. 


396  AUTOBIOGRA.PUY. 

Nothing  but  liard  toil,  close  application,  patience  under 
discouragements,  and  an  unwavering  trust  in  God,  will 
ever  bring  the  golden  crown  of  answered  praver.  The 
nien  whose  tame  or  goodness  jou  may  covet  have  literally 
worn  themselves  out  in  hard  work.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
merit  without  the  closest  application.  As  a  general  rule, 
the  world  very  poorly  appreciates  true  goodness,  or  suit- 
ably rewards  noble  efforts.  But  what  is  that  to  us?  God 
sees  his  workmen,  and  will  take  care  of  them. 

True,  it  is  glorious  to  see  immediate  results  and  contin- 
uous blessing  upon  our  labor  in  the  gospel  field,  or  in  any 
department  of  labor  in  which  we  may  be  placed,  when  the 
plowman  overtakes  the  reaper,  and  the  treader  of  grapes 
him  that  soweth  the  seed.  In  the  Ian o^uaore  of  another: 
Success  in  a  good  cause  is  grand  and  inspiring.  And  the 
question  sometimes  arises,  is  not  our  lack  of  success  main- 
ly our  own  fault,  the  result  of  our  faithlessness,  coldness, 
disobedience  and  sin? 

Tliis  question  is  one  of  solemn  import.  Does  God  see  in 
us  such  uncleanness  as  unfits  us  to  bear  the  vessel  of  our 
Lord?  Does  he  see  in  us  such  a  savorinor  of  "the  thinofs 
that  be  of  men'^  that  he  is  forced  to  say,  ''  Get  thee  be- 
hind me  Satan"?  Does  he  see  in  us  such  vanity  and  boast- 
fulness  that  he  caimot  allow  us  to  succeed,  lest  vainglory 
prove  our  ruin?  Does  he  see  in  us  such  intermeddlinor  in- 
quisitiveness  as  to  "What  shall  this  man  do?  that  he  must 
silence  us  with  his  solemn  question,  "What  is  that  to 
thee?*'  Has  he  seen  our  yet  unfelt  weakness,  and  said  to 
us  as  to  the  apostles,  "  Tarry  ye  till  ye  be  endued  with 
power  from  on  high,''  and  is  he  waiting  until  we  know  our 
•need  and  c<»me  to  seek  his  help? 

Many  of  these  questions  should  come  to  us  with  solemn 
force,  and  we  should  learn  that,  until  the  heart  is  rii^ht  in 
the  sight  of  God,  no  blessing,  no  success,  no  real,  enduring 
e})iritual  prosperity,  can  attend  our  labor. 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  .  397 

And  jet  we  must  not  be  discouraged,  or  unduly  depres- 
sed; nor  must  the  faitliful  child  of  God  estimate  his  stand- 
ing by  his  apparent  prosperity  in  his  work.  All  are  not 
great;  all  are  not  destined  to  be  alike  prominent.  The 
body  has  many  members;  the  tongue  may  make  the  most 
noise,  and  possibly  do  the  most  mischief  of  any,  and  yet  it 
is  not  the  whole  body,  for  other  members  which  have  never 
caused  a  sound  are  still  important  and  indispensable. 

Our  great  concern  should  be,  not  for  visible  results,  for 
God  does  not  always  see  fit  to  grant  them.  Xoah  preach- 
ed faithfully,  but  how  few  believed.  Abraham  followed 
the  Lord,  but  how  few  were  his  companions.  Lot  feared 
the  Lord,  but  little  did  the  Sodomites  care  for  that.  Eli- 
jah was  a  mighty  prophet,  yet  he  thought  himself  alone 
and  desired  to  die.  Paul  found  all  Asia  turned  ao:ainst 
him,  and  stood  alone  for  God  in  the  presence  of  E-ome's 
imj)erial  tyrant;  and  One  greater  than  all  could  marvel  at 
the  unbelief  which  hindered  his  own  beneficent  work. 

From  such  instances  we  mav learn  that  God  has  a  firauo-e 
for  success  of  which  we  have  no  idea;  and  that  the  day  of 
small  things  is  often  the  day  of  power  and  glory  to  the 
saints  of  God.  It  was  through  the  despised  Mordecai  that 
deliverance  came  to  Israel.  It  was  the  three  Hebrew  cap- 
tives that  held  at  bay  the  whole  idolatrous  empire  of  Bab- 
ylon, and  sent  the  scofiing  throng  of  idol  worshipers  home 
to  adore  Almighty  God.  It  was  in  exile  on  the  lone  Isle 
of  Patmos,  that  John  saw  visions  of  eternal  beauty  such 
as  mortals  never  had  seen;  and  it  was  in  Bedford  jail,  shut 
out  from  labor,  and  hindered  from  usefulness,  his  life  a 
seeming  failure,  that  John  Bunyan,  kept  from  the  exercise 
of  his  tinker's  calling,  wrote  that  book  which  has  been 
unmatched  in  circulation,  and  perhajDS  in  usefulness,  by 
any  human  production. 

It  is  blessed  to  see  the  fruits,  but  if  the  tears  in  which 
we  sow  shall  hide  fair  visions,   if  when   walking  in    our 


398  ACTOBIOGEAPHY. 

iute^Tity  in  the  path  of  obedience  we  see  no  results,  let  us 
not  too  soon  declare,  "  I  have  labored  in  vain,  and  spent 
my  strength  for  naught;"  let  us  leave  our  case  with  God, 
and  rest  upon  his  word  in  patient  hope. 

How  much  that  has  been  reported  as  fruit  in  this  world 
shall  prove  to  be  like  the  apples  of  Sodom  in  the  judg- 
ment dav !  How  many  lofty  piles  of  wood,  hay  and  stubble 
shall  pass  away  in  one  brief  hour  I  There  are  many  glitter- 
in  o-  crystals  that  are  useless  and  destitute  of  value,  and 
there  are  priceless  gems  that  look  like  dingy  pebbles  until 
the  great  lapidary  shall  polish  them  as  the  stones  of  a 
crown.  And  how  much  that  now  seems  weak,  and  mean, 
and  feeble,  and  dim,  and  of  no  account,  shall  shine  in  mag- 
nificent beauty  when  the  Lord  shall  reveal  all  things  in  his 
kiu'j-dom.  Then  shall  the  withered  seed  that  was  sown  in 
faith  and  tears  expand  as  a  glorious  and  immortal  flower. 
Then  shall  the  wayside  word  that  fell  upon  the  sinner's 
heavy  ear  find  its  echo  in  the  music  of  eternal  gladness,  in 
the  rapture  of  unending  song. 

Younir  man,  vouno^  woman,  be  brave,  estimate,  if  it  be 
possible,  tlie  value  of  your  soul,  grasp  the  grand  possibil- 
ities before  you.  They  that  would  be  great,  must  first'be  the 
least.  AVe  must  learn  to  suffer  the  will  of  God  as  well  as  to 
do  it.  Xever  despise  work — hard  hands,  sunburnt  face 
or  sweating  brow.  He  is  the  true  king  who  possesses  soiled 
hands  and  a  pure  heart  I  Toil  on  then,  and  heaven  will 
bless  you.  Your  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  There 
may  be  sadness  and  sorrow,  and  discouragements  here,  but 
the  ages  to  come  shall  make  amends  for  all.  And  in  the 
ever-brightening,  ever- broadening  glory  of  the  perfect 
state,  the  estimates  of  human  judgment  shall  be  reversed, 
the  conclusions  of  human  wisdom  modified,  and  many  that 
are  last  shall  be  first,  and  many  that  are  first  shall  be  last. 

There  is  a  beautiful  passage  in  Habakkuk  which  is  very 
appropriate  to  this  subject  of  faith  and  simple  trust  in 


PERSONAL    RECOLLECTIONS.  399 

God.  Tlie  prophet  says,  "Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not 
blossom,  neither  sliall  fruit  be  in  the  vines;  the  labor  of 
the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  the 
flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no 
herd  in  the  stalls;  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy 
in  the  God  of  my  salvation."  A  sublimer  exhibition  of 
simple  trust  in  God  is  not  to  be  found  in  all  the  annals  of 
history.  Think  of  the  land  desolated  as  the  prophet 
pictures  it  before  us,  and  yet  amid  famine,  pestilence  and 
disease,  he  exclaims,  "I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord."  Deai 
reader,  write  these  thoughts  upon  your  heart,  claim  the 
promises  of  scripture,  and  choose  God,  .who  is  too  wise  to 
err,  and  too  kind  to  be  forgetful,  as  your  portion,  and  then 
will  you  be  prepared  to  meet  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life? 

CONCLUSION. 

Dear  reader,  you  have  now  followed  your  unassuming 
editor's  life,  in  narrative,  from  his  childhood  home  of 
affluence  upon  the  Hhine,  Germany,  through  the  devious 
paths  of  fortune;  you  have  seen  him  in  his  happy  home 
over  the  great  water,  on  the  ocean-rocked  vessel,  in  the 
sudden  revelation  of  the  stern  reality  that  poverty  had 
taken  the  place  of  plenty,  suffering  the  bitter  gnawings  of 
hunger,  his  mother's  tears,  driven  out  a  poor  beggar  boy 
and  buffeted  from  door  to  door  amid  summer's  heat  and 
winter's  cold;  you  have  witnessed  the  ruin  which  rum 
made  in  the  breaking  up  and  scattering  of  the  family ;  you 
have  followed  him  from  his  mountain  home  in  West 
Stephentown,  ^NTew  York,  to  his  new  home  in  Albany, 
"Wisconsin;  traced  the  changes  that  came  over  him,  the 
calamities,  misfortunes,  abuse,  his  being  driven  out  help- 
less and  abandoned;  saw  him  pass  a  terrible  night  in  the 
wild  woods  utterly  helpless  and  nigh  unto  death;  have 
traced  him  in  his  weary  travels  bathed  in  tears  until  his 


400  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

licart   would   break   because  there  was  none   to  pitj;  yon 
Mfain   saw  liini   flee  from   the  comforts  of  another   home 
impelled  by  fear,  and  then  shamefully  wronged  by  human 
monsters;  saw  his  mind  turned  from  the  channels  of  right 
knowledge,  until  in  his  infidelity  he  attempted  to  burn  the 
Bible;    then  fleeing  for   life,  struggling  against   poverty, 
resisting  temptation;  then  again  gathering  up  the  golden 
moments  and  improving  his  opportunities;  you  saw  him 
at  the  age  of  sixteen  learning  his  letters  in   a  Sabbath- 
school,  and  the  oppositions  through   which  he  passed  to 
obtain  a  knowledge  of  the  rudiments  of  the  language;  the 
repeated  failures  and  disappointments  in  his  pursuit  of  an 
education ;  you  saw  him  as  an  apprentice,  as  a  school  boy, 
as  a  student  at  the  University,  as  a  generous  brother  flee- 
ing to  the  aid  and  protection  of  one  who  appealed  to  him; 
of  the  deep  distress  and  unsuccessful  efforts  to  provide  a 
livelihood;  you  saw  the  influence  brought  to  bear  upon  him 
which  gave  birth  to  the  Golden  Censer,  the  bitter  op- 
position and  derisive  laugh  by  knowing  ones;  you  saw  him 
liantr  on,  surmountino^  everv   difficultv  in   establishino:  a 
paper  which  already  has  blessed  thousands;  and  lastly,  you 
see  him  the  victor  in  the  conflict.     You  have  seen  him  led 
through  dark  waters,  and  drink  the  cup  of  adversity  to  its 
very  dregs,  yet,  in  all  this,  you  have  observed  his  simple 
confiding  trust  in  God.     That  these  things  have  worked  to- 
gether for  good,   is  evident  from   the   sympathy  for  the 
Bufferine:,  the  sorrowing:,  and  the  unfortunate  which  everv- 
where  is  manifest  on  every  page  of  the  Golden  Censer. 

Finally,  dear  reader,  trusting  that  these  light  aflflictions, 
which  are  but  for  a  moment,  will  work  out  a  far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory  in  the  better  land,  he 
thanks  you  for  your  kindness  and  waits  to  meet  you  in 
heaven  where  tears  are  unknown. 


y/wj^^yyyu'i*s^i*i^^^^^^ 


